Year of the Dog
by DownstairsDaddy
Summary: AU Chelsie follows them throughout 2018-19's Year of the Dog. Chapter titles feature dog idioms and otherwise wag the dog's tail while the story introduces Charles to Elsie thanks to their dogs and eventually where they belong: together. Headlined by Charles/Jim, Elsie/Phyllis mashups with a LONG list of DA characters in supporting roles, cameos. A sprinkling of M adds to the fun.
1. Chapter 1: Lady and the Tramp

Friday, 16 Feb 2018  
2:21 am  
Sixty-one year old Charles Carson finished his business with a little jiggle before tucking himself back into his boxer-briefs. After flushing the loo, he stepped to the sink and washed his hands. The backlit clock face on the small shelf above the vanity caught his eye and told him the night was not even halfway over. With that, he shook his head and sighed while reaching for the hand towel. Overnight sleep interruptions were regular occurrences anymore.

According to a follow up test after his latest annual, his enlarged prostate was the most recent culprit. Returning to the moonlit bedroom, his eyes found the silhouette of a second, semi-recent one: the Scottish lass who had moved in with him full-time some 17 months ago along with her few, though treasured, possessions.

In the less than two minutes he had been gone from bed, he realized she had managed to uncoil herself from the crescent arc she had been sleeping in beforehand and twist onto her back, left forearm covering her eyes. He surmised by her soft cries and twitching leg hanging over the edge of the bed that she was dreaming. Were he not so tired, he would have watched her a little longer but morning was coming and with it another doctor's appointment, this one for her. Hoping not to wake her, Charles attempted to tiptoe to the bed as quietly as his 18 stone frame would allow. He was almost there when his right foot left the wood floor and came down on what he at first thought was the edge of the area rug that ringed the perimeter of the bed. But the feeling of moistness under his toes told him it was instead her favorite chew toy.

"Bugger," he muttered as he lifted his foot and crawled back under the duvet.

3:15 am  
"Wha?" On the cusp of the deep sleep his body needed badly, Charles was jolted awake again, this time by barking below and to the left of his ear. Stretching out his arm and fingers in a searching motion, the barking stilled under Charles's familiar touch. "Okay, it's okay" his deep timbre, deeper still from sleep, was spoken out of instinct to reassure the elderly Scottish Terrier. "Just give me a moment. Please."

Lifting his neck and one shoulder off the mattress, Charles searched out his phone on the nightstand and read the time. "Oh, bloody hell."

Collapsing down again, Charles rolled onto his back and pressed the bases of his palms into his eyes. "Oh, bloody, bloody hell," he muttered. He sucked in a big breath of air before flailing his arms down to his sides in resignation and opening his eyes wide. Then, reaching over his torso with his right arm, he swiped the duvet off his body and in the same motion attempted to swing his feet over the edge of the bed. The duvet, however, was tangled up in his feet and he had to kick a few different ways to free them before being able to sit up.

Hearing the beginning rumble of another bark forming, Charles lunged for the dog's head to keep the bark from escaping. "Okay, okay, almost there." Charles stepped around the dog to his Valet Stand and fetched the corduroy trousers and flannel button-up he had hung on it when he'd gone to bed for the night.

First donning the trousers and then the shirt, Charles was buttoning from the top down when he explained softly, "Okay M'Lady, okay. Almost there and then we can go outside for a tinkle."

Shirttails untucked and hair rumpled, as much as the unkempt look was unbecoming, it was the middle of the night and the past few had taught him that he - they - were in a race against time to get outside. As he slid his second foot into its shoe, Charles was much more awake than even a minute ago. Clicking his tongue as he patted her ribs, Charles encouraged the dog toward the front door. He tucked into the butler's pantry to grab his key ring and jacket as well as her leash. Then as he turned the front door handle with one hand, he fastened the leash onto the dog's collar with the other. Stepping into the hallway, he let the door shut behind him and walked swiftly to the lift. He watched the numbers rise with some degree of anxiety; it was here approximately 48 hours ago when she wet the floor and Charles had to reverse course and clean up after her right there. This time the doors opened without any incident. Normally, she would sit at his side in the elevator but as she remained standing he simply took it as a sign that the lift best be swift to make it downstairs before there was another accident.

Miraculously, the doors opened and Charles dashed out and over to the service door. In fact, he was moving faster than she was prepared for and he felt the leash grow taut. Pushing the swing door open, he gave the leash another little tug to coax her in his direction. Furry little legs scurried past his own and into the cold night air. He realized immediately he should have also grabbed his gloves - and a bag - but had forgotten both in his rushing around upstairs.

The door had no sooner slammed behind them than Charles saw the dog squat down to relieve herself on the grass. "Thank God," Charles thought before praising her with, "That's my good girl. Well done." And yet as badly as she had evidently needed to urinate, Charles didn't think she did so very much. "I am glad we're going to see Dr. Mason in the morning, m'Lady. Find out what's wrong with you - or what else is wrong with you..." the last part trailing off.

All in all, they spent some 6-7 minutes outside slowly walking around the far corners of the building. If the dog still needed to go, Charles wanted her to do so here rather than repeat the whole routine upstairs one more time in the night. They had walked around to the front of the building and were about to circle back to the side entrance when the revolving door began to spin. "Hello Mr. Carson. Lady wake you up again tonight?"

Charles made eye contact with the young man who had just walked outside. "Oh hello, Mr. Nugent. Didn't realize you were on duty again tonight."

"Yes Mr. Carson, James had to go out of town suddenly, may not be back in fact, and I've stepped in for him," the super-sized redhead smiled at Charles. Squatting down, Alfred's focus was drawn to petting the sweet dog who had quickly become his favorite of the South Bank Tower's four-legged residents shortly after he had started on the building's security team last autumn. He was also fond of Charles who always made a point of greeting him and the other staff formally, enquiring of their well-being. They all in turn had a pact, unbeknownst to Charles, to extend extra regard toward this elder statesman amongst the building residents, especially after his wife's terminal diagnosis and subsequent death a few years prior.

"Come on inside, Mr. Carson, 'tis only February and the night air isn't good for any of us."

"Right you are, Mr. Nugent," he yawned before quickly adding, "Oh, I beg your pardon."

Alfred stood and held the swing door open for Charles. It just wasn't safe for dog or owner to walk through the revolving door together as one. "Mr. Carson, this is the third night in the last week you've been out with Lady in the wee hours, I hope she's alright."

Charles laughed at Alfred's choice of words, "Wee hours indeed," though Alfred didn't even notice his own cleverness. "I do too; we have an appointment with her veterinarian in the morning. This behavior is unusual, and it's wearing me out." Charles looked down as the gentle giant was once again bent over petting the dog standing contentedly in front of him inside the warm lobby.

Charles inquired on Alfred's studies and the young man acknowledged his books and upcoming exam. "Well, we best leave you to it. Nice to chat with you, Mr. Nugent. See you again, though hopefully not again before the morning."

"Yes, Mr. Carson, good night. And you too, Lady." With that, Alfred stood and walked over to the call button; when the lift doors opened, he reached inside, hit the button beside "30" and held the door open for Charles and Lady. Charles strode in and turned around, shaking Alfred's hand and bidding him a final goodnight before the doors shut, whisking man and dog back to their respective beds in the sky.

7:45 am

The next time Charles woke it was in the conventional - and planned - manner. Without lifting his head off the pillow, Charles peered over at the tartan fabric-covered dog bed. "Sound asleep are you now?" While he could use a lie-in, Charles knew he best stick with his original plan for the day.

He slipped into the loo to empty his bladder, washed his face and hands, brushed his teeth and swallowed his meds. Returning to the bedroom, he put on his clothes from yesterday once more before coaxing the dog awake. "Good morning, m'Lady." Opening her eyes, she stretched lazily and was about to close her eyes again when Charles tucked his hand under her behind to shoo her out. "You may go back to sleep after your constitutional, love. Let's get on with it."

Returning to the condominium some 15 minutes later, Charles washed his hands again and set about preparing the dog's morning bowl of kibble, freshening her water, and putting the drops in her eyes. After washing and drying his hands again, he turned the kettle on and began preparations for his morning coffee: pre-heating the French Press with hot water from the dispenser, weighing and grinding the beans; Charles Carson was nothing but precise in the process. Whilst the dog was licking the last of her breakfast from the bowl, the kettle began to whistle - one of the few sounds they both could still hear. As she typically did at this signal, the dog barked again. "That's a good dog. Good girl."

Charles pre-soaked and stirred the grounds before filling the carafe, stirring them again, placing the plunger over the mouth and setting the timer on his phone for three and a half minutes. As was his own habit at this moment, Charles walked to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that were opposite his galley kitchen.

He had been mesmerized by this west-facing view ever since he'd been exposed to an artist's rendering of it in the pre-construction phase; the Thames was right below and if one looked directly toward Parliament, Big Ben and the Eye were just a few degrees apart. Alice had first found their flat in the sky when she was contacted about designing the interiors for the residencies in the Tower's addition. It was she who outlined the wisdom for them to downsize and move into the heart of the city as both approached their childless golden years. And, it was she whose professional talents, and specifically the royalties off her work designing the sets for DOWNTON ABBEY - a ridiculously successful British period drama series – as well as her negotiating a pre-construction purchase option into her South Bank Tower contract, that allowed them to buy this prime bit of London real estate. The settlement from her medical malpractice suit less than a decade ago also underwrote a chunk of the luxury. As uplifting as the view itself was, it was in these recollections at the window that he also felt the painful reminder that she had hardly been able to enjoy the view herself. And with that, he stepped away.

Lady was now curled up and falling asleep in her second bed in his office. Finding her safely settled, Charles returned to the kitchen, turned off the timer, plunged the press and poured his first cuppa fortification. He hummed satisfactorily as he smelled the aroma and enjoyed the first sips. Lastly, he turned his attention to scanning the morning headlines and weather forecast on his iPad. As much as he appreciated the experience of thumbing through a honest-to-goodness newspaper, he found that he enjoyed even more so leaving no ink on his fingers or furniture.

Satisfied that the dog was now asleep, Charles opened Spotify and began the next phase of his morning routine while playing his playlist through the flat's built-in speakers. As the first notes began, Charles put down the device and began humming along as he made his way to the en suite to shower and shave. His routine was to dress after breakfast and so he returned to the kitchen in his bathrobe. He stood in front of the open refrigerator contemplating his options whilst scratching at the exposed triangle of chest where the lapels came together and a few sparse hairs poked out. In the end, he settled for light toast and poached eggs. After eating, he loaded the dishwasher and washed the pan by hand before heading back to his closet to dress.

Considering the morning temperature forecast to reach 7 and Charles itching for a ride, he opted for his base layer and rain gear regardless of the partly sunny skies; the combination would keep him warm and allow him to look semi-presentable to others at the veterinarian's.

Fully dressed, Charles made the bed before returning to the living area. As the morning continued, he checked his emails and pottered around the flat, including taking inventory of the wine bottles behind him. He needed to restock a few of the vintages and placed the order online with his preferred merchant. Charles was as amazed as ever at how time flew, and yet the dog could continue to sleep through it all. Waiting for the last moment to wake her, Charles gathered his wallet, keys, phone and bike helmet along with Lady's leash and trailer from the butler's pantry.

Even though he knew Lady couldn't hear him well, or even at all, Charles was in the habit of speaking to her. It filled the silence of his days. "C'mon, Lady, time to go see Dr. Mason and get one of Mrs. Mason's homemade biscuits." Latching on her leash and patting her behind, the dog sat up slowly and yawned wide before stretching out her torso. A little tug at the leash and she trotted behind his lead. Charles grabbed his helmet and held the leash in one hand whilst opening the door with his other and when it was open wide, grabbed the collapsible trailer that stood on end; he would not deploy it until they were downstairs in the bike room.

There, Charles hooked the leash around the trailer before reaching up to his hybrid bike and checking the tires. Assured that both were properly pressurized, he lifted it down from the ceiling hook, careful not to tangle it up with his road bike on its left or the child's bike hung on the right. He connected the trailer and made his way to the garage door, with Lady trailing him on her leash. A kindly neighbour heading inside whom he did not recognize held the door as Charles maneuvered dog, bike and trailer into the expanse of the car park. He left the equipment there under the valet's supervision while he took Lady out for one last stop in the grass. He wanted to avoid accidents in the trailer just as much as inside the building.

Finally, all were ready to journey to the veterinarian's office, Lady zipped into the trailer and Charles mounted on the bike. They were no sooner outside the car park entrance when Charles recognized it was chilly but otherwise a beautiful day for a ride and said as much to Lady who surprisingly was sitting up and delighted by the fresh breeze as Charles pedaled toward the bike path.

11:25 am  
Pulling to a stop in front of the glass storefront with the lettering "Yew Tree Veterinary Clinic" above "Albert Mason, MVB, Andrew Parker, BVMS", Charles secured both bike and trailer to the rack before unzipping Lady and ushering her through the front door. As they stepped inside the waiting area, Charles was taken aback by the sight in front of him: red banners, paper lanterns, Chinese characters and dog silhouettes hung in multiple locations. "What in the world," he wondered, before the thought was interrupted by Mrs. Mason's voice, calling cheerfully from out of view, "Ni hao, be there in a moment!"

The waiting area was otherwise empty. Charles approached the reception counter and removed his helmet, unzipped his jacket all the while taking in the festive decorations throughout the space. Catching his reflection in the glass, he combed his right hand through his hair.

"Oh hello, Mr. Carson. A few minutes early for your appointment, I see. That's great, the doctor's just checking on one of the overnight patients in the back. May I pour you a cuppa?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Mason. I don't like to be late myself or inconvenience others by being so. Tell me please, what's with all the decorations?"

"It's the Lunar New Year today, Mr. Carson, Year of the Dog! We have to mark the occasion! Isn't that right, muffin? Mrs. Mason - Beryl according to the name tag pinned to her festive red scrub top was in front of the desk now and scratching Lady behind the ear which elicited a hearty tail wag at Beryl's affectionate touch. "I baked special fortune cookie shaped biscuits for today's patients. It's a bit of a slow day from here on out though, so we can probably give you two."

"Ah, perhaps after her appointment," Charles clarified.

"Of course" she replied settling beside the patient files behind the desk. Holding the coffee pot aloft as she looked at Charles again, he gestured back his decline.

Just then, Dr. Mason, dressed in his grey lab coat strode confidently toward Charles with his hand extended, "Good morning, Mr. Carson. Good to see you sir, and the little miss." He added a little nod of the head in the dog's direction at that last bit. "Shall we head back and see what we've got here?"

Dr. Mason weighed Lady, checked her vitals and then asked Charles to explain the reason for his booking today's appointment. Their middle of the night ventures and bladder control problems rolled up to the vet suspecting a UTI.

"I'd like to collect a urine sample so I can confirm what I think this is. When was her last drink of water?" Charles estimated a couple of hours prior by this point but also explain that Lady had urinated before the bike ride over. "Well, let's see if I can express the bladder. If not, we'll let her drink a little bit now and come back to it in say 20 minutes. The diagnostics take just a little while and then we'll know with certainty and take it from there."

Just as Dr. Mason finished that statement the two men heard commotion from out front - the ding of the door bell, loud barking, a woman's raised voice in reply and then Beryl's voice joining in.

"Right then," Charles clapped his hands together before scratching Lady behind the ear to keep her relaxed and comfortable as Dr. Mason continued his work. The veteran veterinarian soon determined that his Plan B was required. "Mr. Carson, we'll get her some water and then you may head to the waiting room; it will be more comfortable out there and my assistant Daisy or I will call you back."

As Charles approached the waiting area, the barking had stopped but Mrs. Mason was laughing mirthfully and otherwise carrying on a conversation with another human inhabitant of the waiting room. Said human appeared to be a petite, auburn-haired professionally dressed woman of middle age who was tying one end a leash to one of the chair's armrest whilst the other end was on the collar of a large, grey-haired mixed breed of some sort lying on the floor, head down at her feet. The dog appeared to still be a puppy given the size of the feet and slender limbs.

Oblivious to Charles's presence, the woman turned to address Beryl again and was startled by the presence of the tall, salt-and-pepper haired chap in his reflective riding jacket walking toward her with a sweet little Scottie on the end of the leash.

As it so happens, Lady, so unaware of her surroundings, was walking directly toward the woman who clasped her hands in front of a growing smile as the dog continued forward. "Oh Scottie, aren't you precious? Hello sweetheart!" It had been some time since a female voice had captured his attention as completely as these seven words did just now. And yet any more in that beautiful Scottish lilt were immediately lost on him for he was distracted by the sight of the woman's ample cleavage peeking out of her jumper as she had bent down to offer her closed fist to the dog in greeting. Charles was stopped cold but the woman in front of him didn't notice, she was still speaking with the dog, "What's your name?"

A clearing of the throat from behind the reception desk caught the woman's attention and she looked up to see Beryl staring at her intently whilst silently gesturing as if to cover up her bosom. Realization dawning, the woman's face turned red as she stood and adjusted her collar as subtly as possible. While still not eye-to-eye by any means, Charles could see that the woman had sparkling blue eyes and auburn tresses pulled into a simple updo. Regaining her composure, the woman asked again, "What's her name?"

Charles was still with the fairies, which was awkward for a moment until Beryl now spoke from across the room, "That's Shrimpie."

THAT got Charles's attention and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Yes, Shrimpie," he cleared his throat to speak with more control, "My niece is the dog - Shrimpie's - owner but she and her family moved to the US a year plus ago and left the dog in my care. I have detested the name Shrimpie since Sybil named her as a puppy when she herself was a teenager. The dog is now deaf as can be; accordingly, I choose to address her in a more distinguished way. She was a grand dame in her day and Lady or m'Lady seems fitting."

"Awww, Shrimpie. I think that's cute. Hello, Shrimpie," she smiled genuinely.

"Um, and may we also say hello?" By now Charles was composed and looking toward the other dog.

She followed his gaze down and rolled her eyes. "I suppose that'd be the friendly thing to do," she replied in that charming accent though with a hint of a bite to it. She curtly addressed the dog at her feet, "Behave yourself." Charles smiled and took one step closer to which the dog sat up on his haunches revealing his gender for all the world to see.

"Hello, boy." The dog pulled at his leash and began whimpering but his female owner was prepared.

"Igor, control yourself already!"

Charles sat down leaving two open chairs beside the dog's owner and reached out to pet the dog's head. The dog rotated around to face Charles. He continued speaking to the dog in a slow, soothing voice, "There you go. That's it, nice and gentle. Good boy." He continued to gently stroke the dog's head before speaking again in an inadvertently higher pitched, sing-song voice, "What's the matter with you?" And with that the dog jumped up albeit in a friendly way at Charles!

"Igor, down! You blasted dog!" Igor's owner was out of her chair and pulling the dog down and off Charles, one hand on the leash another on his collar. "I apologize for my bad, bad, BAD dog's behavior, Mr. Whatever your name is."

"Carson, Charles Carson." Over the initial shock, Charles busied himself by checking his jacket. Though there were now a few dog hairs clinging to it, it didn't appear the dog's nails had punctured the jacket's waterproof membrane."

"Elsie Hughes. I am so very sorry Mr. Carson. My apologies. Then shaking her finger in the dog's face, "I'll tell you what's wrong with Igor here – his sex drive! Can't wait to get the little bugger castrated so I can be Alpha again in my own home!"

Shocked at what this near stranger had just disclosed – and in particular how she phrased it – Charles unconsciously closed the width of his mansplay and responded, "I beg your pardon?"

"Damn dog hasn't been fixed yet and it's getting more and more problematic. Tried to have a little Valentine rendezvous with a purebred down the street the other night, if you catch my meaning. That's why we're here today. Damn dog's nothing but a tramp!" Elsie huffed, sitting down again. As much as Igor's lunge had shocked him, the fire in this woman's spirit and her frankness caught him off guard even more. As he sat staring at her, she calmed instantly and smiled pleasantly as if nothing unusual had happened.

Young Dr. Parker came out then and called out Igor's name. The woman stood up, untied the leash and greeted the veterinarian but she also made a point of acknowledging her new acquaintances, "Mr. Carson, Shrimpie," she smiled, "I hope we see you again."

"Ms. Hughes," he tipped his head in acknowledgement and returned her smile, before she disappeared around the corner.

Accustomed to speaking aloud and no one hearing him, Charles was quietly repeating her valediction when Daisy appeared and invited Charles and Shrimpie to return with her to Exam Room 1. Charles was unaware he had, in fact, been heard by Beryl, who quickly catalogued what she knew about Shrimpie's guardian, and her dear friend Elsie – and smiled broadly when she recognized a possible match between them.

12:20 pm

Wrapping up in Exam Room 1, Dr. Mason explained to Charles, "This antibiotic will knock Shrimpie out for some right now, but should also help jump start her recovery. Daisy is getting a couple weeks' worth of pills ready and then I'd like to see her again in two weeks." Discarding the needle in the Sharps container he concluded with a friendly smile, "Do you have any questions?"

Charles looked at the kind and gentle man a few years his elder, down at the dog and back again before choosing his words carefully. "Dr. Mason, as I always do, I'll be phoning my niece regarding Lady, er, Shrimpie's medical care. But I have to ask your professional opinion, doctor. The dog is almost 14 years old. She is deaf, blind, moves at a snail's pace, already sleeps almost all day every day except for the last week when she has been waking up - and waking me up in the middle of the night - and incontinent since then as well. How long is this going to go on?"

"I understand your concern Mr. Carson. Shrimpie is a very mature dog, elderly for her breed and gender, in fact. The blindness and deafness are clear acknowledgments of her age but the UTI and incontinence are temporary, and her heart is VERY strong. So, I think you've got her a while yet and we just continue to treat her with loving care. And make sure she drinks more water, that should help short term and long term." The kind doctor smiled at him, "You're clearly tired, Mr. Carson, go home and take a nap."

Gathering dog and prescription bag, Charles walked to the reception desk to book Shrimpie's follow-up appointment two weeks hence. As Beryl pretended to scan her husband's schedule for the first days in March, in fact her mind was focused on the sole appointment time adjacent to one of Dr. Parker's that she had penciled in for Igor Hughes.

Charles thanked Beryl and wished her a good day as he strapped on his bike helmet to leave. "Zaijian, Mr. Carson. See you again soon."


	2. Chapter 2: Dog Tired

A/N: Shippers! What a thrill to see all the traffic in the first days of my new, third fic. Thank you, and for the reviewers, thanks for the encouragement; much appreciated! I'm not a dog owner, never have been but many parts of this story are borrowed from friends' stories of their pets, and their life stories all mixed together as my basis. I do live in a high-rise, though, albeit nothing like London's South Bank Tower which I read about online as it's a real building. Enjoy a shorter Chapter 2 installment.

Monday, 19 Feb 2018

8:31 am

Charles continued to have his struggles in the days that followed the visit to the veterinarian. Lady had yet to make it through the night due to her infection, in part because she did not like taking the oral medication and gave Charles fits both Saturday and Sunday mornings.

On his first try Saturday morning, Charles wrestled to get the tablet down Lady's throat. Holding her body steady, and opening her mouth wide with his thumb pressing on her palate were uncomfortable for the both of them and Lady spat the first dosage out twice before Charles finally managed to help her swallow it.

Replaying those excruciating 20 minutes in his mind prompted Charles on Sunday morning to crush the pill and sprinkle it over Lady's morning kibble only for her to refuse to eat her regular food too. Exasperated, Charles FaceTimed that afternoon with Sybil from Boston who suggested from past experience dissolving the medicine in a mixture of water and a bit of plain yogurt.

After Charles dashed to the market to purchase said yogurt, mixing and more coaxing, Lady also refused the yogurt mix. Desperate for the dog to return to sleeping through the night - and to feel well - Charles was determined to get that medicine in her system and so invested more time Sunday battling the little dog with the iron will and eventually forced another pill down her throat whole whilst blowing on her nose to encourage her to swallow. Finally, pill gone from sight, Charles continued massaging her neck in a downward motion and cooing, "That's it, that's it, Lady. There you go, girl. Good dog. Verrrry good dog." Yet as he did so, he felt his hand shaking; interrupted sleep and now the added anxiety of the pill feeding were stressing him out and thereby triggering his tremor. "Blast it!" If there was one thing he really hated to deal with it was the tremor.

To decompress, Charles drew himself a hot bath Sunday night before bedtime. He remembered fondly it had often relaxed him during his working years. He realized after the fact though that this Sunday evening bath was not as relaxing as he had hoped or remembered baths could be and he found himself tossing and turning well after lights out in the 10 o'clock hour. He realized then that the aromatic oils and fresh herbs that Alice was famous for sprinkling into the water were missing. Used up, dried up, he had discarded their bottles in the rubbish once and for all after she had died.

Speaking of bottles, his mind wandered again to the arduous task that lay ahead tomorrow morning and beyond. He had 12 more doses of medicine to give to Lady over the next 12 days. He turned the bedside light on and returned to his office on the other side of the flat. He put on his reading glasses and sat down at the computer and googled "how to give small dogs pills." Typing and mousing were challenging with his hand the way it was. But search words loaded, in a short while he was reading articles and then watching youtube videos that others had produced on the topic. Consensus seemed to be to wrap the pill in some sort of treat. Of the various suggestions made, butter or cheese seemed worthy of a try and before heading back to bed, Charles checked the refrigerator to ensure he had both on hand.

By this morning, Monday, Charles woke cumulatively starved for a good night's rest. Yet there was a routine to carry out beginning with Lady's first walk of the morning and kibble and a glorious carafe of liquid caffeine to prepare. This morning the view of the Thames was a typically dreary February one what with the grey skies and rain coming down, rain that was forecast to last most of the daylight hours according to his iPad.

Chilled from the damp walk outside and thinking ahead to wanting to keep an eye on Lady after giving her the "treats", Charles opted to take his shower before tackling the pills. Besides that, he would take the butter out of the refrigerator and allow it to soften during his shower; he thought it would be easier for him to manipulate and Lady to swallow. The pomade squeeze bottle was a bit tricky for him this morning as his right hand remained a bit unsteady overnight and so once he finished applying it to his thick otherwise untamed hair, Charles reached for the electric razor. He didn't want to cut himself on top of everything that lie ahead, namely preparing the "treats" for Lady.

Returning to the kitchen, he was encouraged to see Lady sniffing the air below where the butter tray rested on the counter. Charles raised one of his mighty eyebrows in response to thinking, "This might just work." First though he had to open the prescription bottle. It wasn't exactly a childproof lid, but still difficult for Charles to handle. He made a mental note that once he had it open, he would put the pills in something else. He thought there was perhaps yet a pill organizer that had been Alice's to be found in the medicine cabinet above her sink.

Cursing his hand, it took several twists and turns before Charles was indeed able to remove the lid, his grip aided by a silicon, non-skid tea cosy with which he improvised. He tipped the bottle and released just one tablet before setting the bottle down on the counter again. Then he set about covering the pill, considering it from multiple angles before deciding the pill was sufficiently hidden beneath the butter. Next, he cut off two more pieces of butter and rolled them in his hands until they were about the size of the ball that hid the pill. Unlike many of the dogs featured last night in his research, Lady was too blind to make a game of tossing the balls of butter to her, he would instead feed them to her one by one from his fingertips.

It was messy business. Despite rinsing his hands under the faucet, they were still a bit greasy when all were prepared. With his right hand, Charles gripped Lady's collar and with his left hand he held out the first (empty) butter ball in front of her nose, allowing her to sniff it. And magically, she opened her jaw and gently grabbed it from Charles. "Yes!" he thought. He let Lady chew her way through the semi-soft butter and swallow. One down, two to go, including a hidden surprise. Although all scenarios he saw on the computer last night suggested giving the treat with the pill inside last, Charles decided to slip it in next. If she swallowed it, great, there was still the third ball to be given after that and it would just ensure the pill being that much further down her digestive track. If not, well, he'd prefer to know and move on to trying something else.

He braced himself for the moment of truth, but Lady did exactly as he had hoped - chewing and swallowing the butter and pill and being none the wiser. Charles smiled broadly and let out a little cheer whilst unconsciously kicking his heel against the floor in celebration which startled Lady. "Sorry, my dear. I'm just so happy you like your treats! How about one more, can you do that for me?" Calm again, Lady gladly took that third butter ball from Charles's fingers and with that, he let go of her collar. "Alrighty, then!"

Charles stood up to wash his hands more thoroughly. When he looked down toward the sink, he saw the pill bottle there again which reminded him to go look for a pill organizer. He went back into the master en suite and checked the medicine cabinet. No, not there. He remembered then that toward the end, Alice was on so many meds, the medicine cabinet was not deep enough for her pill organizer. What else would work? Then he remembered that Alice used to keep her earrings in an ice cube tray. One of those would work. He looked back in the drawer where she had kept her jewelry, there was still one tray there, the earrings long gone. Charles pulled it out of the drawer and returned to the kitchen.

"Lady, I'm so proud of you and that you like butter so well! I think we'll have to buy some more at the market before the week is out, if not sooner especially if you're going to share with me. You know, I prefer mine on some nice warm toast fresh out of the – Lady!" As he approached the far end of the kitchen counter, he saw that Lady was still standing where he left her but her little body started to convulse in a heave. "No!"

Charles sprinted the last few steps, only to be greeted by Lady vomiting butter and kibble onto his bare lower left leg and foot. "Oh, Lady!" Charles said aloud, despair in his voice. Unfortunately, the dog retched again and coated her own self and more of the floor. As he turned and reached semi-blindly for the paper towel roll on the far side of the sink, Charles didn't see the loose-fitting sleeve of his bathrobe cuff topple the bottle of pills until he heard pills and bottle hit the bottom of the sink. "Damn and blast!"

Charles was at the edge of breaking and bent over to capture his head in his hands at the top of a triangle that his elbows on counter completed. Charles drew his outstretched hands over his face and shook his head at all that was happening to him. Only when he felt his right hand shaking against his face did he return to the moment, taking a deep breath, counting to three and standing up straighter. He looked down at the floor in front of him; at least the dog was no longer vomiting. He looked into the sink, the bottle on it's side, a few of the pills were dissolving in the water on the bottom, one other was on the edge of the rubber ringing the mouth of the drain. He took another deep breath before tearing off a large wad of paper towel to clean off dog, floor and himself. Several wipes later, he deposited the towels in the rubbish bin beneath the sink. Most of the vomit was cleared away but some was on the hem of his robe. He'd attack the floor area with disinfectant later but for now he had a dog and himself that needed to be rinsed off. And so, lifting Lady by her torso, he held her loosely to his chest and returned to the en suite. Placing dog on the floor of the shower and shutting the door, Charles walked over to the utility sink in the laundry area, stripped out of his robe which went straight into the sink, and returned to step into the shower. He grabbed Lady with his left arm again and with his right, turned on the shower head soaking both of their bodies in clean, hot water. He could have stood there forever with the water pouring over his head and down his chest.

Outside the shower a few minutes later, Charles left Lady inside the stall whilst he toweled off, then wrapping the cotton around his waist. He walked to the laundry and pulled out one of the "Lady" towels he kept for, well, typically other circumstances when Lady was wet and needed toweling off. When the towel no longer seemed to obviously be absorbing water from her coat, he put Lady in her kennel and shut the door. There was another towel in there already and lying down on it as she did right away would help dry her off further and warm her. Then Charles returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the mess in there.

Charles was still beside himself with the turn of events and despite order on the way to being restored, his hand was trembling more than ever. So much so that when it was time to use his phone he was grateful for facial recognition unlocking and voice activated dialing. "Call Isobel Crawley," he commanded. He frowned at his uplifted and shaking hand as the ringing continued and eventually went to voicemail. "Isobel, this is Charles Carson. I'd like to come in for an appointment. As soon as you can fit me in. Please call me back. Thank you."

His next call was successful in connecting to a live person.

"Yew Tree Veterinary Clinic, this is Daisy. How may I help you?"

"Daisy, this is Charles Carson. I need some help please, with the medicine that Dr. Mason prescribed for Lady, that is, Shrimpie, on Friday. I'm going to need a refill or an alternative. May I stop by later today?"


	3. Chapter 3: Shake

A/N1: OK, I know that all the upstairs relations in canon add to the intrigue of DA but in FanFic, reading and WRITING is challenging enough without slotting in AU Crawleys here and there. With that and artistic license in mind, I'll be switching up the family tree a bit, rearranging the branches, dropping fruit into different orchards, and using some different names. I'll start here with one small change you should be able to follow easily.

A/N2: In the last few days – since I started posting chapters to this fic - I've twice now crossed paths with a couple "in late middle age" out walking a Scottie along the side street nearest my building. I haven't seen the couple or the dog before and the dog looks to be a little older given how grey her coat is. If that's a delightful example of life imitating art, unfortunately I have a counterpoint today: my best friend wrote with news that her family's rescue dog, whom they adopted almost 3 years ago, has just been diagnosed with a chronic liver condition. Godspeed to Ernie!

Tuesday, 20 Feb 2018

7:20 am

As he stirred naturally from his slumber, Charles suddenly opened his eyes wide in the realization that Lady had actually slept through the night. Hallelujah! Countering his joy this morning was the reality that he himself had woken twice to use the loo during the night. Probably a case of indulging in too much claret last night; he drank nearly a whole bottle.

Charles rolled onto his back and stretched his limbs in various directions as a means to further wake himself up. In the process, he moved his right arm from above his head and extended it slowly in a throwing motion as if he were out on the cricket pitch. On the follow-through across his torso he noticed that his hand was shaking again, or still, to be exact.

With a frustrated expression on his face, Charles pulled his arm back so that his right elbow rested on the mattress, forearm against his right ribs and right hand was slightly raised above the center of his chest. First he studied the back of his hand, then rotated his wrist and studied his palm. He flexed and extended his fingers a few times then turned the hand over once more. In addition to the tremble, his attention was caught by the liver spots dotting the skin, then his focus fell to his chest, the faded color of his chest hair and sagginess of the skin on either side of that thinning tuft. Charles said aloud the first thing that came to his mind, "You old booby, you!" Just as he did, Lady – who was now sitting up in her bed – barked. It was almost as if she heard Charles and was agreeing with him! "Cheeky, Lady!"

With that he peered over the left edge of the bed, located a chew toy on the floor that was in reach of his left hand and grabbed ahold of it, tossing it in Lady's direction. It was not an accurate toss but the handle end of the "cricket bat" grazed her right forepaw, startling her enough to make her flinch. Then Lady realized what it was and began to chew to her heart's content. Charles shook his head before resolving to rise and get on with his day.

After their initial walk to start the morning, Charles prepared her breakfast and his coffee. He would have to wait until late in the day to give Lady her next dosage of antibiotic so as to keep 24 hours between yesterday's dosage and today's.

His call and return trip to the veterinary clinic Monday was worthwhile. Beryl was waiting for him when he arrived and had prepared to chastise him for his foolishness in thinking that he might feed three full bites of rich, creamy butter to such a little dog as Shrimpie, but when she realized immediately how tired and desperate he looked and sounded, Beryl took the counseling approach instead, suggesting that switching to some roast chicken, ideally dark meat given the moistness, would be a much better choice. Beryl went so far as to send him home with, in addition to the refilled prescription, a leftover drumstick that was otherwise due to be part of Albert's lunch. Also having noticed his trembling hand in their conversation at the reception desk, and knowing there was no inherent risk at the Carson residence, whilst Beryl set about retrieving and wrapping the drumstick, she quietly asked Daisy to switch the new pills to an easy-open bottle with flip top lid. Upon his return home yesterday mid-day, he was grateful for all.

8:15 am

Using his left hand to lift the French Press, Charles was about to pour his second cup of coffee when his familiar Marimba ringtone sounded from the counter behind him. The Caller ID let him know it was Isobel Crawley. Putting down the Press, Charles answered, "Isobel! Thank you for returning my call."

"Charles, I'm so sorry to take so long. I was off at one of those weekend retreats for CEUs, just returned last night from the West Country and have already begun my second appointment this morning. You want to come in, though as soon as possible, yes?"

"Indeed."

"It's your hand, I presume. Tremor's back?"

Sighing, Charles confirmed, "You guessed it."

"Well, I'm terribly sorry but the appointment diary is quite filled up. Some of my regulars knew I was going to be away and filled up today and tomorrow. But I know your hand really interferes with daily living. Let me see if I can switch one new patient over to the other clinician. I won't know until after 10. Call you back then?"

"Isobel, you're a dear. Thank you."

"Happy to help bring you some relief, Charles. Ta-ta, gotta run."

After his shower, Charles pottered around the condo and made a list for the market. When his phone rang again, he expected it to be Isobel, instead he looked down to see Grant Ham at the top of the screen. Charles reached for the phone, a small smile forming on his face. "Hello, Ham, to what do I owe the honor?" Charles greeted the caller affectionately.

"Hello, old chap! How are you? Not still in bed, I hope!"

"Enough of the old, part, Ham. I've already lamented my liver spots and moobs this morning! And no – "

"Your what?!"

"Never mind, look it up. M-O-O-B-S. Anyway, I've been up for," pulling the phone away from his ear with the intent of reading the time on the screen, "Oh, blast, I can't read those tiny numbers! I guess about two hours now. Day's half over here in the city. Lady and I will probably head out for our second walk of the morning here soon."

In a more tempered voice, laced with compassion, his oldest friend continued, "Ah, yes, that is partly why I'm calling. We FaceTimed with Sybil last night. She feels so badly for all that Shrimpie, er, Lady, is putting you through these days, feeling like a real Ligger with your generous caretaking. How did she do last night, and how are you, truly, my friend?"

Although Charles's nature was to downplay life's little bumps, Robert was a good listener and Charles knew him to be genuinely concerned for his and the dog's wellbeing. So once Charles started sharing, well, it was good for Charles to have someone to talk with. Finally, the story came up to the present moment and Charles simply concluded, "And now you know what I know."

After a thoughtful pause, Robert replied, "Well, my friend, again, our most sincere thanks from all the Grantham family for the loving care that you are providing Sybil's beloved Shrimpie with. It means so much to us. And your hand…" Robert sighed, "You didn't mention that to Sybil, did you?"

"No, there was no need. Nothing she can do about that."

"But there's really been no medications or other treatments developed since your father had the palsy?"

"No, no, nothing conventional – in the Western sense. But I have a call in to someone who's been able to help in the past. I'm hoping to see her today."

"A woman!" teased Robert, attempting to lighten the mood. "You've called a woman, good for you, On! That helps with more than hands!"

"Oh, piss off, Robert!" Charles wasn't really mad, and so a moment later he started to laugh a little. Changing the subject he continued, "What else did you call to talk to me about beyond your elderly granddog and my wobbliness?"

"I am flying to Zurich this Thursday to join Cora at Edith's for a few days before Michael comes home. You know, he was deployed to PyeongChang to cover the Olympics and well, you probably don't know that Edith had a miscarriage, her second," Robert's voice trailed off."

"Robert, you're right, I didn't know. How awful. How is she doing?"

"OK, I think. You know, she's so fragile to begin with." After a long pause he continued, "Anyway, when we return, we don't yet know exactly when, we thought we'd come in the city for a couple of days, see you, Rosamund and Duke. Are you around those first days in March?"

"Of course I'm around, where else would I be?" And with that his phone buzzed in his ear indicating another call was coming in. Charles checked the screen and saw it was the call he'd been waiting for. "Ham, sorry, hold on a moment, please, that call I've been expecting is on the other line." Hitting the "accept and hold" icon, Charles spoke again, "Yes, hello, Isobel."

"Charles, I can't switching anything around unless someone cancels, but if you can be here at 5:30, I'll take you after my last appointment."

"I'll see you then, Isobel."

"Oh, Charles, before you go. Same as always: no pain meds for 4 hours prior to the appointment, and get some good exercise in, loosen up that tension overall."

"I have a friend on hold on the other line and had just mentioned to him taking the dog for a walk."

"More than that. Go get your heart rate up. It's a lousy day for a ride – get in some laps or something else vigorous."

"Yes, Isobel. See you at 5:30."

"Bye Charles."

Switching to the other line, Charles asked, "Ham, are you still there?"

"I am. So, late next week then?"

"Yes, of course. Text me when your plans are clear, we'll have dinner."

"Wonderful, Cora will be so happy to hear. It will be good to catch up further then as well. I have to run now. Be well and good luck with whatever this woman is doing for you."

"Oh go off already! Text me about next week." With that, Charles hung up the phone.

5:20 pm

Charles arrived at Isobel's office and found the street door locked; they locked at 5:00. He rang the bell beside her name and credentials, I. Crawley, ., MSOM, to announce his arrival. Isobel buzzed him in.

He greeted her with a peck on the left cheek. "Thank you again, Isobel, I know you've had a long day."

"Yes, but I don't feel half as tired as you look. It's bad isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so."

Placing her right hand in the pocket of her white lab coat and extending her left hand, Isobel gestured, "Let's get you settled in the front room. My 4:45 is about to wrap up and then you have my undivided attention."

Shortly after 5:30 Isobel came into the room where Charles had sat down in the side chair. Perching herself on the stool opposite him, Isobel opened her laptop and asked with a friendly smile, "So what's going on?" Charles gave her the abridged version of what Robert heard this morning. After he finished, Isobel said, "Well, I'm glad you called, and even more glad I could get you in so soon. Of course, I'll do the usual needling of your hand, but I'll also do a couple on the ear for the stress. You said Lady has been waking you up for many of the last 10 nights but your sleep's been interrupted for, um," she scanned the notes she'd typed, "closer to 5-6 weeks. What else is going on?"

Charles sat up a little straighter, his face turning a bit red. Isobel noticed, she noticed everything. "Charles?"

With some reluctance, Charles admitted, "My GP diagnosed me with an enlarged prostate recently; he put me on Flomax almost a month ago."

Isobel rolled her eyes but caught herself and maintained her professionalism. She was otherwise unphased by the disclosure. With a slight smile and tip of the head she replied, "Of course he did. Write the script as fast as they can. You know, I can needle you for that too."

Charles wasn't expecting to hear that and dropped his chin in shock. He hadn't thought of acupuncture as being able to treat such conditions. And while he did consider Isobel a friend, ever since she had brought Alice so much pain relief in her final months, this seemed way too personal. "Isobel, you put the needles for my hand in my hand. I don't even want to think about where you'd put the needles for that!"

"Oh, Charles, don't be ridiculous! Two points, on the centerline of the back, one at about your waist and one a little bit higher. That's all there is to it." She paused and let him consider it. "You're going to be lying here for 40 minutes anyway, where's the harm in a few more needles? You know what they're like and you know the relief you get from them for other purposes. Why not give them a try for your prostate issue? As far as I'm concerned, you might be able to stop taking the medication." She paused again, almost salesperson like. "Listen, I've treated other men for this and had success, in time of course, just like other conditions a handful of treatments is what it seems to take."

"The body is an amazing machine and it can heal itself with a little coaxing." She paused again. "Tell you what, let me needle your back tonight as well. I am willing to bet you the best fish and chips dinner in all of London that if I needle you tonight - and unless you drink yourself under the table between now and bedtime - that you will not wake up tonight due to your prostate. If that's the case, you buy me that dinner and we'll needle you again in a few days time. If not, you go on popping your pills. It doesn't seem they've made a difference yet, have they?" She had a point there.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, deal."

Isobel extended her hand toward Charles who shook it.

"Wonderful." Isobel stood up and walked to the other end of the treatment room and reached above the sink in the corner. She pulled down one towel and one fresh cover for the face cradle. She placed the former down on the treatment table and then attached the latter in its place. Turning back to Charles, she instructed, "OK, go ahead and get undressed, you may leave your shorts on. Lie face down so your face fits in the cradle comfortably, I'll come back in and adjust it as necessary. Cover your bottom with the towel and I'll be back in a couple minutes to get you started." She said it all so matter-of-factly, and Charles knew it was worth a try.


	4. Chapter 4: Dugs & Hugs

Time for a little Elsie, Shippers.

Friday, 23 Feb 2018  
5:40am

Many nouns define Elsie Mae Hughes: sister, friend, confidant, caregiver, organizer, survivor - dog-owner. This morning, as she sat at her glass-topped desk in the corner of her upper floor bedroom, the ones that best fit her were early-riser and list-maker.

Elsie had woken as she often did at this pre-sunrise hour and eased into her day of work in her dark, comfortable, private sanctuary within her London row house. Well, work day in that she was just tying up loose ends and private save for the snoring dog sprawled at the foot of her bed and presently one week into sporting an attention-getting Elizabethan collar. Once Igor was awake, the pace of her day would drastically accelerate. She found that by taking a few minutes to write out what she needed to do during the day just begun she could maximize her efficiency. Given all she was juggling any more, that was an essential, time- and sanity-saving measure.

Friday list made, she took it all in and raised her eyebrows in mock alarm. She was glad once again for her chosen four days per week in the office schedule and that today was not one of those days. Sure, it pinched her pocketbook some but that was something Elsie had known all of her 55 years.

Elsie laid the pen down on the keyboard of her laptop and checked the lower right corner of its screen for the time. Ugh, the font was much too tiny to read at this still early hour with eyes unable to focus on anything smaller than her neat handwriting. Instead, she hit the home button on her phone that told her it was going on 6 bells, and that she had a text message. She debated whether it would be worth donning her reading glasses to read that text. Experience told her it would likely raise her blood pressure, but, in the end her conscience told her to read it nonetheless and so she looked around for the glasses under the assorted piles on her desk before she thought to look over to her nightstand. Sure enough, there they sat atop the trashy novel she'd been reading before bedtime.

Untucking her cross-legged feet and putting them on the floor to rise, Elsie cursed the pins and needles she felt as circulation returned to her lower extremities. She arched her back and twisted her torso which together exposed her lower belly ever so slightly to the cool air of the bedroom as her flannel pyjama shirt lifted above the waistband of the pyjama bottoms. She quickly dropped her arms to her sides and held the shirt hem down tight against her hips as she retrieved her reading glasses. Glasses now perched on the end of her nose, she more casually returned to her desk and phone to read the message sent at 1:30 am:

 _Still visiting Friday? What time?_

Elsie sighed, and debated with herself for the second time in just 30 seconds whether she should answer it now, or later. Hoping that the sender was sound asleep and would stay that way for some while, Elsie tossed the phone back down to the pile and went to leave the bedroom to get on with her day.

The laundry she had washed before bed had dried fully overnight and she set about folding her undergarments and putting them in her unmentionables drawer in her dresser. Hoping to catch the morning headlines and a glimpse of that hottie Ben Shepherd, Elsie walked into the guest room across the hall and pressed the remote to begin her first phase of multi-tasking for the day, watching GOOD MORNING BRITAIN whilst ironing.

Later, having just unplugged the appliance, Elsie decided she could go no longer without a cuppa and so walked downstairs to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. As it heated, she thumbed through the snail mail that had arrived yesterday. Elsie walked back into the guest room just as Alex Beresford began the first detailed Weather segment, Elsie was all attentive; although she was not thrilled by the snow in the 7-day, she was glad to hear that this weekend would be clear and sunny making for a beautiful drive to Brighton today.

After that, it was time to move on and Elsie walked the sheets to the linen closet and hung the clothes in her wardrobe before returning to the kitchen to prepare her breakfast. Well, "prepare" was a bit of a stretch. Even she could dollop yogurt from its container into a bowl, toss some fresh berries on top, spoon some wheat germ over them finished off with a drizzle of honey. She brought that, a spoon, napkin and cup of tea with milk back up with her to the bedroom and sent out appointment reminders and a few pressing emails whilst eating her breakfast; the dog would be waking soon and then it would be off to the races.

7:05 am

Sure enough, Igor sat up and shook himself from nose to tail right when Elsie stood to return her dishes to the kitchen sink.

"Hello, Igor," she greeted him. Igor walked over, tail wagging, for a first scratch of the morning. "Okay, let's bring this down to the kitchen and then we can go O-U-T."

The dog had learned to spell. For even at only the letters Igor went berserk, dashing over to the bedroom door, then evidently finding Elsie moving too slowly, he reversed direction and ran over to the desk then back again this time to the landing. Igor barked once as if to say, " _Come on!"_ before running down the stairs.

Elsie had learned over the 7 months she had owned Igor to take her time at these moments, regardless; no need to stir him up further. So she slowly exited the bedroom and was about to turn down the stairs when she saw Igor reared up against the carpeted bottom stair.

"Oh no you don't! Don't go doing that and ripping out your stitches!" Elsie hustled down the stairs which shooed Igor away and deeper into the parlor. Depositing the dishes in the sink, Elsie walked to the entry closet and grabbed her ¾ length down coat before walking Igor to the slider out to her postage stamp size patio and slightly bigger yard, a corner of which included a flower garden and patio quince. Elsie let the dog roam freely inside the fenced in yard but kept an eye on him from just outside the door knowing his tendency to stir up more than his fair share of trouble.

After the dog had wee'd, he barked again at Elsie who shushed him for fear of waking the Bates bairn next door as he had done earlier in the week. When she ran into Anna in the meantime and apologized - for she had heard the baby's crying through the common wall - Anna told Elsie not to worry, such is the nature of bairns as she had been learning these last weeks since bringing Jack home from the hospital.

Elsie brought the dog back inside and threw her coat over one of the chairs at the seldom-used dining table as they'd be heading out later for a longer walk. Igor devoured the food in what seemed only a few bites and was frustrated when the collar prevented his retrieving a couple bits of kibble that had escaped the confines of the bowl. When he paused from gulping down water, Elsie attempted to encourage him into his kennel in the parlor so as to have peace of mind whilst she showered. He did not like his kennel as he still equated it with punishment but he did follow his favorite squeaky ball when Elsie tossed it in. The thing drove her crazy with its high pitch.

Elsie kept Igor inside the kennel as she showered and later dried her hair. She was loving the new Dyson Supersonic hair dryer that she had selected as her very special Christmas gift to herself; it was far more extravagant than she would ever dream to buy, but she had credit card points expiring and used them up after watching on a pre-Christmas episode of GOOD MORNING BRITAIN where Sir James Dyson himself had been giving blowouts to walk-in customers the day before at his company's new New York flagship store. The Supersonic was to die for.

She dressed for the day, jeans and a jumper before heading back downstairs grabbing her phone on the way. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Igor was still squeezing the squeaky ball until he noticed Elsie grab his purple leash from atop his kennel. With that his jaw dropped open, tail began wagging vigorously, and he barked again.

"Hush now! Give me a moment to gather my keys and shopping basket!" Igor quieted but stood up inside the kennel staring Elsie down. When she approached the door, he sat down though his tail continued to thump against the floor of the kennel. Elsie nonchalantly released the second metal latch and Igor came bounding out nearly toppling her in his enthusiasm. "Igor! Enough already! Goodness, let me attach your leash at least so we can get out of this house before you break anything!"

Moments later, Elsie was locking the door behind her and they were on their way to the dog park five blocks away. She needed Igor to burn off some of his abundant energy before being confined to the car for a chunk of the day. During the 15 minutes Igor was playing with the other four-legged visitors, Elsie chatted with a couple of the other owners. They didn't make it over here often, but a few of the faces were familiar and it was nice to have a little social interaction herself.

After playtime, Elsie put Igor back on his leash and they continued to walk around, eventually circling back toward home along the High Street. Elsie's intent was to pick up a few meat pies at Patmore's Pies and a raw lamb bone from Tufton's Meat Market. Purchases made, Elsie and Igor headed back home.

Elsie tucked the meat pies in her small hard-sided cooler along with two bottled of cider before putting the paper-wrapped bone and ice pack on top. Rather than bunch up the reusable shopping bag again, she instead placed the box with the new iPhone 8 she had purchased earlier this week – and the sales receipt – into the bag.

8:40 am

Elsie decided she best not wait any longer to reply to the middle of the night text. So she typed into her own iPhone 5: _Still coming. See you between 3-4._

A minute later her phone pinged with a return message: _Becky? Pies? Cider?_

Elsie shook her head, so predictable was Martha. _Yes, yes and YES_ she typed back.

And then one last question from the far end: _Phone?_

At least she remembered the £600 phone she insisted on having, even though she had no idea how to use a smart phone, texting on her flip phone had been a major undertaking two years ago for Martha.

 _Yes. Need to run._ It was going to be a long day and Elsie best get on with it. But before she did, she dialed Becky from her Contacts list.

"Elsie?"

"Yes, honey, it's me. Good morning. Have you had your breakfast yet?"

"Yes, we had scrambled eggs and beautiful toast this morning!"

"Beautiful toast?" Elsie wondered.

"Yes, Miss Rose buttered our toast and then helped us sprinkle colored sugar crystals on top. Mine was blue – like the Scottish flag!"

Elsie cringed at the mention of the sugar; she'd have to ask Miss Rose the origin of that selection and make sure that Becky nor the other women were having that very often, especially for breakfast. "Oh, that does sound beautiful, Becky. Are you just about ready for our outing? Igor and I will be leaving home shortly and because we're driving we should be there in only 10 minutes, if traffic is light which it should be by now."

"Yes, Elsie, I'm ready and Violet is too."

"Oh wonderful, sweetheart. Make sure you have a jumper on today, It's going to be a little colder down in Brighton, and we plan to walk around with the dogs."

"OK, I will. I'm going to say goodbye now, because the sooner I do, the sooner you'll be here with Igor. I love you."

Elsie smiled against the phone, "I love you too honey, bye."

Elsie gathered up the parcels including a 1L bottle of still water and Igor's collapsible bowl and set them down beside the front door before hooking on Igor's leash once again. They stepped outside and Elsie had to tell Igor to sit, twice, as she locked her front door. She hadn't used the car since last Friday but recalled it was parallel-parked one street over. She was glad the parcels weren't heavier or more numerous for Igor was generally enough to handle in and of himself.

They made their way to the 16-year old Mercedes and Elsie put Igor in the wagon's boot before settling herself in the driver's seat and parcels on the floor in front of the passenger seat. Rush hour in the city was winding down and Elsie was glad of that. A few miles and the 10 minutes away as anticipated, Elsie pulled up to the house where Becky lived. Like her own, it was modest though Georgian style. She was glad for the single car length driveway on the side of the house where she could park.

9:17 am

Figuring she would not step inside at this point in picking Becky up, Elsie opted to leave Igor alone in the car without any other precautions. He would see her, and she would see him. Elsie stepped out of the car and before she could even make it up to the stoop, the door flung open and there stood Becky, in her purple down coat, winter hat on her head, Violet on one side of her, Rose on the other. Both Becky and Rose were smiling and Violet wagging her tail!

"Elsie!"

"Wait for her, Becky," advised Rose with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Hello Rose," Elsie greeted the young woman with a kind smile and nod of the head, before extending her arms in a welcoming hug for her younger sister, "Hello Becky! Oh, I've missed you!"

"I missed you too, Elsie. As did Violet."

"Oh, yes, Violet! We certainly can't forget Violet!" Elsie looked down and saw the gentle, obedient and perfectly behaved black Labrador service dog that had necessarily become Becky's constant companion over the last seven months.

"Where's Igor?" Becky asked in Elsie's ear.

"Oh, he's in the car, I'm sure he's anxious to see his sister again, just like I was anxious to see my sister! Why don't you and Violet go ahead and say hello to Igor, get yourselves settled in the back seat and I'll be there shortly."

"Okay!" And with that Becky and Violet, right by her side, bounded out to the car which excited Igor based on the barking she could now hear from inside the vehicle.

"We're driving down to Brighton, checking in on Mrs. Levinson's property, having lunch and a little stroll – or romp in Igor's case – and then we will be stopping by Mrs. Levinson's assisted living center before I drop Becky back. I anticipate we'll be back by 5:30, in time for dinner. I know Becky doesn't like to miss her meals or Friday game night. And when we come back, I'd like to hear more about beautiful toast."

Rose dipped her head somewhat sheepishly at that last bit, "Yes Ms. Hughes, of course. Enjoy your day together."

"We will. We always do."

And, Elsie was right, they were enjoying a wonderful day together, the two Hughes sisters. Traffic both to and from Brighton was light, allowing Elsie to easily navigate the highway and carry on a meaningful conversation with Becky, or at least as meaningful a conversation as she or anyone could ever hope to have with Becky.

They had driven straight to the Levinson property to ensure the cottage was withstanding the winter weather, and it was. It was also a wonderful opportunity for the dogs, 2.5 year old Violet and her younger, half-brother Igor to play on the lawn. To keep a move on, at 12:25, they piled into the car again to drive into town for lunch. Before Elsie, Becky and Violet exited the car in front of the restaurant, Elsie unpacked the lamb bone she had purchased that morning. While Martha would probably cringe knowing that the bloody bone and a slobbering dog were alone, unsupervised, in her vehicle, she wouldn't have to find out or certainly see it firsthand. Besides, it seemed better than the alternative that Elsie imagined which was clawed carpeting and leather courtesy of Igor.

At lunch, Becky surprised Elsie by not ordering her usual fish & chips for she loved them here, rather, Becky ordered the special which was Scotch egg, recalling that it had been in Becky's own words, "Da's favorite."

As the minutes ticked by, Elsie was more anxious about the next stop for the afternoon. If she didn't have a 90 minute drive ahead, she sure could use a drink to prepare for that. If only Violet, who had been specially trained to not only pro-actively respond to Becky's sometimes seizures but her more frequent anxiety, could help her, as well.

Knowing the longer they waited, the worse traffic, and Martha, would be, Elsie retrieved Igor from the vehicle before they left downtown Brighton and took him, Becky and Violet for a short walk so the dogs could relieve themselves. And then they were back on the A23 heading into London.

Elsie maneuvered her way through the traffic that was building as the weekend began. She was glad to find an open parking spot near the main entrance of the surface lot outside of Martha's assisted living community, Times of Endearment, for all the fresh air down in Brighton was catching up with Becky whom she noticed was dozing in the back seat just a few minutes prior.

Slotting into the empty spot and pulling on the parking break before turning off the ignition, Elsie took a large, deep breath before closing her eyes and exhaling slowly in a last-minute gathering of her strength. Fluttering her eyes open she looked in the rear view mirror just as Becky started to stir. "Are we at Martha's, Elsie?"

"Yes, sweetie, we are. Time to get out of the car again." Although Elsie didn't think it very wise to bring Igor in with them, she knew it was allowed at least in the central visitor's area, and that is exactly where they found Martha as they proceeded in past the registration desk.

"There they are! My visitors, at long last, I thought they'd forgotten me!" Ever flamboyant, Martha Levinson was out of the chair she'd been sitting in and walking toward the foursome in greeting. She had hugs or scratches for all of them before dragging them back to the circle of elderly residents whom she'd been conversing with beforehand. "Ladies, and Walter, you may, or may not, remember my protégé, Ms. Elsie Hughes from previous visits and her angel of a sister Miss Rebecca Hughes; her service dog Violet, and the only male Elsie has let into her life in the last 20 years, Igor. But, based on that collar around his neck, seems he's not the man he once was." Elsie just rolled her eyes at Martha's sense of humor. "I'm just kidding, of course, Igor's a fine dog, and I just want Elsie to find a fine man. Would you excuse us please, I'll rejoin you all later." And with that, Martha turned from her contemporaries and reached a hand out to both Hughes sisters inviting them to come along with her to a private corner where she could not only visit with the two of them, but scan the room in search of fine men on the premises. Elsie herself nodded her head and offered a half smile of farewell to the gathering and then walked with Martha, Becky and the dogs.

Martha had all sorts of questions for Becky, she was so good at engaging the younger woman as few people were. She had grown comfortable with Becky having known her for, well, almost 25 years, a few years after she'd first met Elsie and had indeed mentored her in many regards.

As for her questions for Elsie, they were more practical in nature, like did she leave the dog alone in the car, how did it run, how is the cottage, when would she take her back there, where were the meat pies, and how about her new phone? Martha didn't dare bring up the cider, for that was the equivalent of contraband around here. High maintenance Martha was a gem, no two ways about it.

At Elsie's encouragement, Becky played with Igor, while she showed Martha the new iPhone that she had purchased for her; Martha didn't need a smart phone whatsoever, she just WANTED a smart phone. And with Elsie as her executor, Elsie did purchase the phone, but only a 7 and 32 GB. She showed her the basics, enough to be dangerous, before porting over Martha's contacts - all 8 of them, mainly her physicians.

Elsie cautiously explained, "Now, as soon as I call your carrier and have them activate your new phone, the old one will no longer work. Are you sure you want to do that."

"Yes, positive." There was never any doubt in Martha Levinson's world.

"And you know how to text on the new phone? How to send and receive a call? Whatever else you want to do?" When Martha answered in the affirmative, Elsie simply said, "Okay, I hope you're right," and handed over the phone to a gleeful Martha.

The whole training process had taken quite some time and Becky was beginning to fade once again. Elsie explained that they best be getting on so Becky could be home in time for dinner.

Much more warmly than she had throughout the visit, Martha expressed her unending gratitude to Elsie, "Thank you, my dear. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Elsie rolled her eyes again while captured in Martha's embrace. "I don't know either Martha, and we aren't going to find out, are we?"

"Not a chance!" Martha kissed Elsie on the cheek, squeezed Becky's hand fondly and then picked up her phone and cooler, walking away and waving goodbye.

Saturday, Feb 24 2018

12:15 am

For the third time in the last 75 minutes, Elsie's phone rang beside her bed. It was Martha. "Martha, for the last time. Put the phone down. No calling and no texting after 10 pm. Please." And with that, Elsie hung up and shut her phone down.


	5. Chapter 5: All Dogs Go to Heaven

A/N: Hello readers, thanks for all the (800+) visits and to those who take the time to review, special thanks to you, I am so glad you are enjoying this little romp. And to the guest who struggled in Chapter 3 with my alternating the way Charles addressed Robert, as Robert and "Ham", I tried to switch it to the more formal Robert when the conversation got more serious...and I've got a plan to explain further. In fact, yesterday I took some time and mapped out the overall story arc. I like it and hope you will too!

As for the guests who want to get into their primary physician the same day as they call for an appointment, looking back I saw that Isobel's credentials didn't paste in as intended, so I have corrected those. She is not a doctor, just is a licensed acupuncturist. A friend is the same and my experience is similar to that of Charles, with my friend able to get me in for an appointment, rather quickly.

In Chapter 5, we visit a real London landmark. I wanted a park along the Thames for reasons that you will soon see. Greenwich Park isn't adjacent but a few blocks from the water, though it is suggested as one of the best dog-friendly parks in London. Since this is the world of make believe, the Park now goes right to the water, and I'm sure has no leash laws. Igor likes that. I hope you do too!

Sunday, 25 Feb 2018

8:15 am

Sunday had dawned brilliantly just over an hour ago, already the day was living up to its name. It was always so uplifting especially during February in London; a day of sunshine made the shortest month of the year feel not quite so long. Despite her own personal appreciation for the sun, it was not lifting Elsie's spirit today, no matter how bright it might shine.

She had been up for two hours, fed herself and the dog, cleaned the loo and Hoovered the carpeted floors of the upper level. She knew she should get outside, would go outside, but was having a hard time finding the motivation on this day. Staring at the weather app on her phone was a good start; the weather was not looking nearly as inviting over the next week plus. Just as she was about to put the phone down a text came in from Beryl.

 _Mornin' luv, ye out and about?_

 _Not yet._ Elsie typed back.

Keeping her eye on the screen, Elsie saw the telltale dynamic three dots indicating Beryl was typing more. And then they disappeared, only to reappear, then disappear again. Beryl was having a hard time finding just the right words. Because Beryl knew that 25 February was the day that Elsie's beloved Da left this world six years ago. 7:20 pm to be exact, with both his daughters at his bedside.

 _Happy to come over if you want me to, share a hug_ and an animated 'hug' gif is what Beryl eventually sent back.

 _Thanks, no will be fine. Planning a long walk…training._

 _Okay, luv, cheer up! If you want to do something later, call me. Lazy Sunday at the Masons._

'Cheer up.' Beryl's innocent words almost crumpled her. Beryl was one of her most long-standing friends, they shared practically everything with one another. But Elsie had never told her of that very personal, private conversation six years and one week ago with her father, as he lie in a state provided hospital bed at home, the one where she had taken his skin and bones hand in her own and was studying the face of the man who meant more to her than any other in her life. The one where he squeezed her hand and told her, " _Cheer up, lassie._ "

"Oh, Da," Elsie said aloud as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She needed a tissue to blow her nose. Igor watched her walk out to the loo, and began thumping his tail in anticipation of going outside. He cocked his head this way and that as Elsie returned to the bedroom, blowing her nose. "What's the matter, Igor? Haven't ye ever seen a girl cry before?"

And then, impulsively, she made a funny face and noise in the dog's direction, startling him. Igor's reaction was funny, and Elsie's tears were suddenly mixed with a big bright smile. She took a big, fortifying sigh and was ready to face the day.

She did want to go for a long walk; since the beginning of the new year she had been building toward her goal of completing the May fundraising walk yet again. It was something that she had done since the beginning and Beryl and Phyllis –- and others - had done it with her in a show of solidarity. Her da had joined a few of the early walks as well for her. That was who he was, her rock, just as his name suggested. Alban Hughes.

The walk she planned today was really for the both of them; for Elsie it would be her long, once-a-week build-up to May, and in honor of her da, she was planning to walk to along a long stretch of the Thames's south bank. Even though her da was a man of the land, he loved the water; he recognized its power, both in destructive and life-giving ways. She would make her way to the mighty Thames for him today.

Elsie was away with the fairies thinking of these plans when Igor suddenly barked. He had grabbed her attention which was all he sought to do. "Oh don't you worry, you're coming along too, Igor!" And with that Elsie set about getting herself ready, beginning with a series of stretches, even before she was out of her pyjamas. She put on a sports bra and clean pair of cotton knickers to start with; next, so-called "bum-sculpting" leggings, long sleeve workout top and hoodie, quarter socks and athletic shoes. Just before leaving she would add a lightweight jacket from the entry closet downstairs for its wind-breaking qualities. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and slipped on a headband that also covered her ears. Elsie looked at herself in the mirror and thought, altogether, she was looking rather cute, regardless of the few grey hairs, wrinkles and no makeup. Igor watched the entire process with eagerness; all he thought was he was about to be a very happy dog!

Elsie planned to be out about three hours in total, bringing them back home for lunch. Downstairs, she pulled a container of Beryl's hearty chicken soup out of the freezer to thaw, figuring it would make a nice mid-day meal upon their return. Elsie put on her gloves and zipped the robin's egg blue jacket onto her body, tucked two carefully folded sheets of paper into a pocket along with Igor's collapsible bowl. Into the pocket on the opposite side she tucked mess bags and two tennis balls. Although Igor watched her place the balls inside her pocket, when she grabbed the plastic ball launcher, he was beside himself with anticipation. "Igor, calm yourself! You know I can't throw those nasty balls worth a darn!" And then they were out the door.

Elsie tried to keep them going at a relatively fast pace but Igor of course had to stop and sniff and otherwise leave his mark. They took stairs wherever possible as Elsie liked switching things up and the opportunity to strengthen other muscles in her legs. There was no set route they were following; they walked with the lights whenever possible and were simply in general making their way to Greenwich Park.

11:00 am

They had reached their destination. Overall, it has been a good brisk walk; not so many people were out yet today and therefore not too many distractions for Igor. She had to admit, he'd been a good dog, told him as much as she located the bubbler to fill his bowl. From past visits to the park, she remembered one over near one of the playgrounds. They headed through the grass in that direction. Along the way they came across a stick, just a little longer and sturdier than the ball launcher. Elsie picked it up thinking it would come in handy as they approached the water's edge. The fact that Elsie kept on walking, stick and ball launcher in hand was confusing Igor, he truly expected her to toss the stick for him to fetch.

Approaching the bubbler, Elsie stopped and put the long narrow items down on the ground at her feet, extracted the bowl and deployed it with the intent of filling it. The water was ice cold! But at least it was flowing.

Seeing a park bench just a few steps away from and facing the water's edge, Elsie headed over there. She looked both ways before crossing the bike path right behind the bench. Reaching her destination, she put the bowl down at her feet. No sooner had she done so than Igor began gulping down water in his trademark inelegant fashion. While he was focused on that, Elsie tied his leash to the armrest on the left end of the bench before returning to retrieve the stick and ball launcher.

When she came back, Igor had drained the bowl. She instructed him, "Okay, now, lie down for a bit and rest whilst I sit down and do the same."

It felt good to sit down, just the change in posture was a welcome relief. She relaxed her back against the backrest and enjoyed the view. There were fellow dog walkers and joggers along the far bank at Island Gardens, a tugboat slowly made its way westward. A few birds circled above and to her right. It was quite calming a scene.

Looking around to check on Igor, she was pleased to see him absorbed in watching children playing on the swings and miniature rock wall. Turning back around to face the water, Elsie took off her gloves and pulled the papers from her pocket. Both had the word "Da" written on them, one in Elsie's neat and flowing script, the other in Becky's childlike block letters. A half-smile appeared on her face as she recalled helping Becky with her letter at Friday's lunch table, before their food came. Her letter had been similarly thoughtfully composed last night over a glass of wine after she'd turned off the Olympics Figure Skating Gala. She concluded with a version of the Serenity Prayer, addressed to her Da, rather than God, for he was her God. She continued to find signs of his loving guidance popping up in her life every so often; she wondered aloud what she would find next.

Standing up from the bench, Elsie walked toward the water, the stick tucked under her arm. She manipulated the folds on one sheet of paper and then the next to form little paper boats. Squatting down she set each of the boats upright on the water and then used the end of the stick to gently push them out deeper into the water.

With her knees aching, Elsie stood up but continued to watch the little boats as the tide took hold of them. She smiled more as she recalled a short poem she had been charmed by at a memorial service a couple years ago titled THE LITTLE SHIP. It had inspired this now annual practice in tribute to her father:

 _I stood watching as the little ship sailed out to sea._

 _The setting sun tinted his white sails with a golden light, and as he disappeared from sight a voice at my side whispered, "He is gone"._

 _But the sea was a narrow one._

 _On the farther shore a little band of friends had gathered to watch and wait in happy expectation._

 _Suddenly they caught sight of the tiny sail and, at the very moment when my companion had whispered, "He is gone" a glad shout went up in joyous welcome, "Here he comes!"_

She had every faith that this had been the case at her father's passing six years ago with so many friends and forefathers welcoming him back into their midst, most especially her dear mother. Elsie was proud of her own independence, but deep down she envied the love that her amazing parents had found and fostered over their lifetime together, wished every so often that she had such in her life as well.

Arms crossed beneath her bosom, Elsie blew a kiss in the direction of the receding little boats and said just above a whisper, "Love you, Da." She was in the process of turning around when she heard a deep voice call out, "Is that Igor?"

11:20 am

Charles Carson was out for a Sunday morning bike ride along the waterfront path. He'd been gone for nearly an hour and was on his return home, minding his own business, when he noticed a dog up ahead of him, sitting near a park bench sunning himself. There was a woman nearby, he could tell by the ponytail and headband. It looked like the grey dog he'd met last week at the Yew Tree Veterinary Clinic. The dog looked to be the same unusual mixed breed but was sporting an Elizabethan collar. He was almost upon the dog when he remembered why that dog had been at the Clinic and that is when he called out and applied his brakes.

Hearing his name in a non-reprimanding and deep voice was both unexpected and exhilarating to Igor. In his excitement, Igor raised himself up on his hind legs in the direction of the now stopped bike and its rider. Elsie's attention had been similarly caught and as she looked up and strode toward Igor, she recognized the red jacket, and the man wearing it. "Mr. Carson, is that you?"

That voice, again. Between excited dog and Scottish lilt there was no doubt the couple he'd just encountered were the same ones he'd met some 9 days ago. Charles backed up whilst straddling the bike and then maneuvered to the edge of the path. "Yes, Mrs. Hughes. Hello."

"Ms., actually. Nice to see you again Mr. Carson. Lovely day for a ride it would seem."

"Indeed." By now, Igor was straining to reach Charles's outstretched hand for a pat on the head. "What brings you both out?"

Tossing the stick toward Igor so he'd leave Charles alone, Elsie replied, "Ah, a long walk and soon - as a reward for Igor's hopefully continued good behavior - a little game of catch before heading back home." She had just untethered the leash and slipped it onto her right wrist before bending down to shake out the bowl and pick up the ball launcher with her right with the same hand holding the launcher up for Charles to see.

"Oh, those things can really throw a ball! I've never used one, though. Do you mind if I try?"

Elsie chuckled, "Be my guest. You couldn't be any worse than me." Looking around, Elsie pointed away from the bike path, toward a sidewalk that led deeper into the park. "Shall we?" Little did either know that it was known as the Lover's Walk. Charles decided it was better to unstraddle the bike now and lifted his leg up and over the seat. Watching him, Elsie inadvertently learned in that moment that male bike riders – or at least this male bike rider – did not wear an athletic cup whilst riding. Elsie looked away, her face slightly reddening.

As they strolled along, Elsie inquired about Shrimpie and his riding and Charles gestured this way and that recounting the morning's route to and from home.

Stopping where there was a nice open area alongside the boating pond, Elsie extracted the tennis balls from her pocket, and held them out to Charles in her left hand along with the launcher in her right, "See what you can do Mr. Carson."

"Hold my bike, please," Charles answered back. There was an awkward exchange of handlebars, balls and launcher complicated all the more by Igor who tangled things further in his leash. "Igor, sit," Charles commanded and the dog did so instantly. Charles dropped the balls and launcher on the ground at his feet and paused to unfasten the dog's leash from the collar, coiled it up and handed it to Elsie before picking up the toys again and taking a few steps away, looking around to find the best direction to launch the first ball. Igor's forepaws were spread apart, tongue hanging out of his mouth in anticipation. And with that, Charles launched the first one, impressed with the trajectory as Igor raced after it. "Wow!" He held the second ball up above his head and called the dog back. Igor trotted back and dropped the first at Charles's feet.

"Well, I'll be. He never does that for me!" Elsie remarked. A few more tosses of the alternating balls and Charles had the hang of it. Elsie was entertained by it all and her enjoyment was evident in the spectacular smile her face was sporting. "He's in heaven, Mr. Carson." At that, Charles looked over at Elsie and noticed her brilliant smile, only to smile back. "What do you think of our contraption?"

"It is fun. A slightly different motion than throwing straight from the hand. Takes a little getting used to. And on the cricket pitch it's a downward motion. With this, it helps to aim high." He gave it another long toss.

"Cricket. Well, that must be why you're good at this." They were absorbed enough in their own conversation that neither noticed Igor wandering toward the water's edge where he dropped the ball in exhaustion. Only when Elsie heard splashing did she remember the dog again. "Igor, no!"

Igor had waded into the murky water up to his belly.

Pushing the handlebars back to Charles for him to take ahold of the bike, Elsie dashed over to Igor yelling, "Get out of there!"

It all was happening in slow motion as Charles saw Elsie, ponytail and bottom bouncing up and down as she ran toward the dog. He laid the bike down in the grass and walked over in their direction. Elsie had Igor by his collar and was dragging him away from the water, while snapping on his leash. "Igor, you're supposed to keep your bits dry right now! Lay down!" The dog dropped to his side and Elsie pushed him down further lifting his back leg to inspect his bits. Charles suddenly remembered the dog's recent neutering. He was at her side when Elsie whipped her headband off and started wiping down the dog's bits. "Well done, Igor." Both males could hear in her voice that she was upset. Turning to look up at Charles, Elsie asked, "Mr. Carson, is that water or something else in the bottle on your bike?"

"Straight water," Charles replied.

"May I have it please, to help clean him up? We can't get an infection."

"Of course."

Charles trotted over to the bike, grabbed the bottle and returned it to Elsie who had turned her headband over to find a clean spot on the fabric. Charles lifted the self-sealing cap and handed the bottle to Elsie who wet her headband and grabbed the dog's scrotum with one hand while wiping it down with the headband held in the other. Much like at the vet's office the week before, Charles unconsciously protected his manhood as Elsie worked on Igor. Finishing the deed, Elsie let go of the dog and then stood up, her back protesting ever so slightly.

"Oh," Elsie recoiled and stretched a few different directions to loosen up again. "Mr. Carson, I think we best be getting this little rascal home now. Sorry to cut short our little jaunt together." Her demeanor had calmed.

"Yes, I understand, I'm sorry too. I fear that Igor sought out the water after my ball tossing warmed him up so." He paused. "And, I'm sorry to cut our walk short as well. Good day, Ms. Hughes. Lovely to see you again, best with – " Charles didn't know how to term it so he just gestured in the direction of the dog's genitals. "All that."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. Good day to you as well." And with that, Elsie tugged on the leash and started walking toward home. Charles watched the two for many steps and was pleased to see Elsie turn and wave goodbye, a smile on her face, even from that distance and circumstances.

Charles waved back, before dropping his hand and heading back to his bike. He needed to be heading back regardless, to get cleaned up for the matinee.


	6. Chapter 6: Hot Dogs

Unusual second installment in the same day. One of the fruits of having the story arc mapped out and some headway toward an actual Chelsie relationship documented for you all on the Ship.

I hope you enjoy and very much welcome your reviews! Send them in, please.

Sunday, 25 Feb 2018

12:45 pm

On their way back home, Elsie called Beryl.

"Ye comin' over? If so, I'll set an extra place for lunch and then we're going to curl up and watch the Olympics. Last day and all."

"I don't know yet, we're still out. But I have to ask you or Bill a question. It's about Igor."

"Oh. Is he alright? Go on."

"That's just it, I don't know. You know he had his...surgery, a week ago Friday. Dr. Parker's instructions were to keep the area clean and dry. Well, he walked into a pond while we were out for our walk, got himself wet there. He wasn't in but a few seconds and I wiped him off right away with some fresh water, but well, I don't know if I should bring him by your place for a look-see. We can swing by."

"Well that's quite a story – how did that happen?"

Elsie knew Beryl meant well but she wanted to get to the heart of the matter. She replied back with shortness, "Beryl, it's a long story." She sighed. "Can you just tell me what you think?"

"I'll get Bill."

A moment later, Bill greeted Elsie who proceeded to recap once more what had happened.

Bill advised that so long as there was no redness or swelling, Igor was likely fine. The incision was super small and had certainly closed by now. Hearing Beryl in the background, Bill asked again on her behalf if Elsie wanted to swing by anyway, it was no trouble, she was always welcome.

Elsie politely declined saying she had a "date" with a long, hot bath waiting for her at home. But she agreed to call if Igor appeared to have any complications. She thanked him and hung up before continuing home. That bath was sounding better and better by the minute.

As soon as they walked in the door, Elsie kicked off her shoes and laid down the toys beside them on the floormat and walked straight to Igor's water bowl to refresh it. While he was drinking, she took her jacket off, slipping her phone into the pouch of the hoodie underneath and tossed the headband aside for the laundry before turning on the kettle.

Elsie herself grabbed a large glass of room temperature water and was glad to quench her thirst. Looking up at her, water drooling out of both sides of his mouth, Igor looked like he hadn't a care in the world. He'd had a great day. "Come here," Elsie urged him. She had him lie down again and checked his bits again, a nasty business that she found entirely unpleasant though she was relieved to not find any of the warning signs Bill had advised her about. She scratched him on the belly before adding, "Well, you look fine. If not, we won't be going back to Greenwich Park." At that the dog hung his head and looked at her with mournful eyes. "Silly dog you. Now, let me eat my lunch."

Elsie drank more water as she reheated the soup on the stovetop and later ate it standing at the kitchen counter. "Now, get in your kennel, Igor. I don't want you getting in any mischief during my bath." This time the dog went in, he was looking forward to some relaxation himself. Elsie switched on the kettle.

Elsie grated a handful of ginger and was just finished when the kettle whistled. She poured the steaming liquid into a large plastic tumbler she had purchased for this exact purpose, grabbed the tumbler in one hand, scooped up the ginger in the other then headed upstairs and straight into the loo.

She set the tumbler down beside the tub, brushed the ginger off her hands at the head of the tub and then sealed the drain and turned the water on. Hot. She liked a hot, detox bath after her long walks – and other times – and proceeded to add the other ingredients as the tub filled. She added Epsom Salt, Sea Salt, baking soda, and 20 drops of lavender to the ginger. She stirred the water a little with her hand before she undressed, dropping all the sweaty clothes into the hamper. She turned the water off for a short while as she took a moment to dry brush her skin. She restarted the faucet when she stood to move the shampoo and conditioner bottles and her razor to the edge of the tub. Next, she went to the music app on her phone and selected her Carole King playlist to play softly before she set the device on the closed seat of the loo itself. As the first notes of "Beautiful" came on, she drank a few more sips of the hot water before releasing her ponytail and putting her hair up in a clean towel and turning off the overhead light. She put one foot in and melted in pleasure. Easing the rest of her body low into the tub until the water was just below her collarbones, Elsie turned the water off. And relaxed.

Her eyes remained closed for the next almost 30 minutes as she simply lay there, sweating out the toxins in her body, ensuring her muscles from excessive aching, whilst occasionally draping her arm over the tub to lift the tumbler to her lips. As time wore on, she absentmindedly stroked her left breast and nipple. Not her left nipple, to be clear, her one nipple for she had lost the other one in the pre-emptive double-mastectomy she had had years before. This summer would be her 20th anniversary without "her girls."

As the water began to noticeably cool, she opened her eyes and looked at her fingertips. Yes, the pads were wrinkling, but more she couldn't wait for Friday and her manicure. That reminded her, she needed to book the appointments.

Elsie took the towel off her head, submerged her hair in the water and washed and conditioned it. Her last step before exiting the tub was shaving her legs. After toweling off, she applied lotion to her skin before dressing. She considered sitting around in her pyjamas the rest of the day but knew that Igor would need another walk at some point toward evening, so instead she slipped into a clean pair of capris and zip up before gathering her hair up in her signature casual up-do.

She had drained and rinsed the tub before she looked down at her phone. Two texts had come in during her bath.

Martha had written first: _Love the phone. How do I send a photo? Again, ; )_

And Beryl: _Hope Igor is ok._ _Come over tonight? Sunday roast and Olympics CC._

To the first she replied: _Best to show you. Ask one of the aides._

And for Beryl: _No, thanks. Need to work on some case files. What's CC?_

Instead of typing yet again, Beryl simply called her. Elsie barely had the phone up to her ear when she heard Beryl's clarification, "Closing Ceremony."

"Ah, the party. No. Thanks for the offer, but I need to get a jump on the week ahead. You can recap the highlights for me when I bring Igor in on Friday. If I don't see you sooner."

"How's he lookin'?"

"Fine right after I hung up with Bill, haven't checked on him since. Have been in my bath. Will go downstairs in a minute to let him out of the kennel. I'll check again. By the way, I had some of that chicken soup finally. It was delicious! Hit the spot. There's another serving left; I'll bring your container with me when I know I'll see you."

"Okay, let us know if something doesn't look right on the boy."

"Will do. Bye Beryl," and Elsie hung up.

She loaded the washer with her walking clothes and towels then headed downstairs where she found Igor sound asleep in his kennel. He didn't even open his eyes as her foot hit the main floor as it often did. She walked over to his kennel and peeked in on him up close. He still didn't hear her. She shrugged and let him be. He was really tuckered out today. That was rare, but good. Longer walks like today's must be the ticket. Oh, and playing fetch with Mr. Carson. What did he say his name was? He didn't mention it today. Charles? Charlie? He looked like a Charlie, played with Igor like a Charlie would. Charlie Carson.

7:37 pm

Charles was cleaning up the kitchen after supper. He had prepared chicken piccata as the evening began, several servings in fact having learned in the past couple years that making a big batch was marginally more time consuming than just making one serving. He ate it fresh tonight, had two more servings that he put in the refrigerator for later in the week and the rest were bound for the freezer after cooling down completely overnight in the refrigerator.

Sybil had phoned whilst he was preparing them earlier. They had just finished their Sunday midday meal in Boston, after church. Sybil and Sybbie both were anxious to hear how Shrimpie was doing after another week of antibiotics, thus the check in.

Sybbie wanted to also see the dog and so they had switched to FaceTime. When Charles first appeared on the screen, the little girl giggled, "CC, you have an apron on!"

"Yes, I do, sweetheart. I'm preparing my dinner and am trying to keep the flour and other ingredients off me." At least it was a manly black waist apron. He'd picked it up on a trip to Tokyo in the early 2010s after being taken with their authenticity in the sushi restaurants around the city. Giggles contained, the focus shifted to Shrimpie/ Lady. After he'd walked over to his office where she was gnawing on her "cricket bat", Charles picked the dog up in his arm and held the phone up in front of him. It was easier than stooping over to keep the camera at the dog's face level. The dog was doing better with her sleep, and he was as well though he was scheduled for another treatment at Isobel's after two last week.

When Charles mentioned that he had been to the ballet that afternoon, Sybbie insisted on demonstrating for him the ballet skills she was acquiring in her lessons. Sybil held the phone two body lengths from Sybbie who Plié'd and Sauté'd as best as she could for Charles. Seeing her progression pleased him greatly and he encouraged her efforts with "Bravo, Sybbie, bravo!" He smiled broadly into the camera at his goddaughter who was growing up so fast. Finally, when it was time to say goodbye, Sybbie put her face up to Sybil's screen and shared long-distance butterfly kisses. In reply – as was their custom – Charles waggled his "caterpillar" eyebrows for her, eliciting another round of giggles and an, "I love you, CC" from the five year old.

"I love you too, Sybbie. Tell mummy and daddy goodbye for me." And he blew three air kisses at the camera before waving goodbye and disconnecting the call.

That little munchkin did his heart good, it was just too bad she was so far away.

Dishes washed and put away, Charles tucked himself into the den with a glass of wine for the start of the Olympics Closing Ceremony. He sat down in one of his two Eames chairs, settled his feet onto the ottoman and Lady onto his lap where he stroked her back gently as she curled in a ball and fell fast asleep. Although his intention was only to watch the parade of athletes and extinguishing of the flame, he somewhat regretted not altogether DVRing the program and watching it another night, the commercials were such a chore to sit through. He ignored most of their content but found his attention caught by one that featured a large, happy-go-lucky dog that was soaking wet as the commercial began. His mind raced back to that afternoon and his serendipitous meeting in Greenwich Park. Certainly he wondered how Igor was doing, but truthfully he was more curious about Ms. Hughes. Despite feeling a little warm under the collar all of a sudden, he took another sip of wine, this time with a broad smile on his face that he didn't even realize was there.


	7. Chapter 7: Sick as a Dog

Tuesday, 27 Feb 2018

8:47 am

Lady had made it all the way to 5:00 am before waking Charles. He hadn't slept well all night. He noticed it happened on occasion as he aged.

When the two were coming back into the building pre-dawn, Alfred was on duty and advised there was snow in the forecast. Though the temperature had dropped during the last 24 hours, Charles was doubtful any snow would amount to anything; it was London after all, not exactly common to see anymore, even in February. He went back to bed and was delighted to wake up 3 plus hours later – to the sight of snowflakes dancing outside the bedroom window. It was one of the things that fascinated him about living 30 stories off the ground; the snowflakes actually went up rather than down.

It had been forever since he'd had a lie in this late and so long as Lady was asleep, his first thought was to milk it all the more.

Just the sight of the white swirling flakes outside his window made him shiver. So, as he repositioned himself to lie on his side facing the window, he pulled the duvet higher up his chest and aimed the fireplace remote at the glass beyond the foot of his bed. The flames were soon dancing as much as the snowflakes.

He lie there 20-30 minutes, mesmerized by the snowflakes before the dog began to stir. "Good morning, Lady." He cleared his throat, "Good morning, I say. I guess we both had a good lie in. But now, time to go out?" The dog shimmied her whole body. Charles grabbed shirt and trousers off the Valet Stand and strode to the window as he was zipping himself up. He looked all the way down to the ground. The sidewalks right in front of the building were clear but elsewhere they were spotted with snow. Best to dig out Lady's classic, Clan Ruthven plaid winter coat and matching green booties. Strangers on the sidewalk and Tube had complimented Charles in the past on how dashing Lady looked when all dressed up. He agreed the colors were good on her.

Charles stepped into the butler's pantry and pulled down the basket where he kept the dog's outerwear. It had been over three weeks since they'd needed them last.

As he peered into the basket, Charles was alarmed to find a few pieces of mail in the basket; he'd clearly forgotten about them. There was nothing important in the small pile save for the printed invitation that neighbors in the building had sent. He'd opened the envelope three weeks ago. He scanned the invitation again and noticed the line at the bottom, " _A response is requested by 2 March._ "

Unlike last year when he had to decline their wedding invitation due to it falling on the same day as Robert's mother, Maggie's, 85th birthday celebration, Charles didn't have a good reason not to go to their anniversary brunch. Though he wasn't close to the couple in the least, they were unquestionably some of the better neighbours in the building, always friendly and outgoing. He suspected they threw a good party and he knew they had style, they had show as evidenced by the custom, engraved invitation. And he respected that level of attention to detail.

His New Year's resolution was to get out more; as time passed, his friends were subtly and not subtly needling him that, on the relationship front, "it was time." He just needed to get out more, period. Often, his excuse was his responsibilities toward Lady, but with this party location only a few blocks away, and at one of his favorite restaurants, Charles realized he had no excuse in this case. So he grabbed a pen, checked the "Will attend" box on the enclosure card and began to write his name below. His hand was shaking again and that infuriated him, "Christ – can't even write my name!" Good thing he didn't have to also write "+1" and, good thing he had another appointment at Isobel's this afternoon.

With some difficulty, he managed to insert the enclosure card in its envelope and seal it. He would drop it off in the mailroom on his way out of the building.

2:00 pm

Elsie had been in a rush this morning. Martha had called not long before she needed to leave for the office with another series of questions tied to the new smart phone. As Elsie was talking her through those, she didn't realize that Igor had gotten into a rubbish bin in the downstairs powder room and tore up several crumbled tissues into dozens of tiny bits and pieces that littered the floor in two rooms by the time she came down the stairs.

Elsie barely made it to the office ahead of 8:30 only to receive voicemails from her 8:30 and 10:00 clients canceling their appointments. Elsie could see through the excuses they gave but knew it was really the snow. Both clients were born and bred in the city, no inkling of how hard snow really could be, as it had been for her growing up on the farm. Her day got back on track after that.

She had dashed home for a late lunch, returning to the office with Igor as it would be a late night there and personal safety was one of the reasons she agreed to adopt Igor when she did – for night time walks home after group.

Before her 2:15 appointment arrived, Elsie called to make the salon appointments for Friday. It would be Becky's 48th birthday and "experiences" rather than material gifts had been her practice for some time. Becky asked for a trip to the salon. Manis, pedis and facials for two was her request.

The only time with two slots available concurrently was 9-11:00, but Elsie was in a quandary: Igor's follow up with Dr. Parker was to be at 11:30. Squeezing in a trip home to pick up Igor would be tight, more so if they were behind schedule at the salon. She booked the salon appointments anyway and then called the veterinary clinic to inquire about pushing Igor's appointment into later Friday afternoon.

Daisy answered the phone and seemed very accommodating. "No problem, Ms. Hughes, Dr. Parker is wide open that afternoon, come whenever you like."

Only Beryl overheard her and knew rescheduling her friend would unravel her set up scheme and so she wrestled the phone away from Daisy and shooed the young woman to the back of the clinic suggesting that Bill needed her help there.

"Now what was this about rescheduling Igor's Friday appointment? Sorry, no can do." Beryl could lie with the best of them and she was in the midst of proving it.

"But Daisy just said it was not a problem."

"Oh, she was misreading the screen. New scheduling system and all. She hasn't got the hang of it yet. But, oh, yeah, I can see where she might think Dr. Parker's schedule is wide open. No, I'll have to pick a different color or higher contrast or something, Dr. Parker definitely told me he wanted to be out all Friday afternoon. Sorry Elsie. We'll need to see Igor at 11:30, as planned."

"But Beryl, it's Becky's birthday. She wants to go to the salon; they need two hours for the services and we can only get in at 9:00. Can Dr. Parker do it Thursday afternoon, I could swing by before group?"

"Oh, no definitely need to be right at 14 days with those things, not any sooner – or later, if you're thinking of switching to next week."

"No, not next week. What about Bill, does Bill have any availability later on Friday?"

Beryl began to whisper into the phone, "Elsie, Andy wants to surprise Bill, he's dreamed up somethin' special for him. I don't even know what it is, hasn't even mentioned it to Daisy to keep it a surprise. He just had asked to not book Bill's schedule out that afternoon." Beryl was weaving a doozy to keep her friend coming in as planned, when Mr. Carson was due in with Shrimpie as well.

"Okay, 11:30 Friday it remains," Elsie sighed. "See you then."

Beryl hung up and an excited Daisy tiptoed to the lab where Dr. Parker was looking at a tissue sample wondering what surprise he had planned for Dr. Mason that Friday!

3:30 pm

Charles arrived at Isobel's office for his acupuncture treatment just as a text came in from Robert.

 _Friday dinner?_

 _Sure, I'll make a reservation. Italian?_

 _No, too acidic. Ulcer's been acting up._

 _So poached chicken?_

 _Funny. That fish & chips place down the street serve anything not fried? _

_Sure. Table for 3?_

 _Unless you plan on bringing a date._

 _Cheeky. Didn't know about Ros, Duke._

 _3._

 _Plan on 7:00 my place unless you hear otherwise._

Isobel entered the waiting room and smiled in his direction, "Ready when you are."

As she always did at the start of any treatment appointment, Isobel consulted with the patient and charted their current condition. Charles reported that the hand was shaking pretty badly again this morning but seemed better after his swim and time in the steam room. As for the prostate issue, it was hard to say. Certainly no worse but he'd also learned whenever he was up with Lady, he was wise to use the loo himself.

Isobel contemplated that for a moment before asking, "And, how about overall stress?"

"No change, Isobel. It's not like I'm working or really stressed about life. Aside from these issues, I am fine."

"Hmmm. Okay, get undressed, you can leave your undershorts and socks on. Face down on the table, cover up your bottom with the towel. I'll be back momentarily." And with that, she matter-of-factly stood up and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

When Isobel came back in the room, she began making small talk as she washed and dried her hands. She learned during her training in APAC years ago that it generally helped put the patient at ease. Plus, it was in her nature, especially with those she knew well and she included Charles Carson in that crowd.

"So, Charles, it's been a while since I've asked. How are you getting on in the relationship department? Are you seeing anyone?"

"No, Isobel. I am not. Give it a rest." Although he knew she meant well, he was agitated by her inquiry.

"You're getting on Mr. Carson, and such a curmudgeon! You can afford to live a little." She patted his shoulder to underscore the affection behind her comment. She knew she could razz him some but knew it best not to push too hard. But she really did want to see Charles move on, knew Alice had wanted him to move on. She'd heard it with her own ears in the days before Alice died, her clear and entirely lucid instructions that he had her permission to love again, that she wanted him to love again. It had been three years.

Isobel adjusted the position of the neck cradle, extending it out and down to accommodate Charles's large frame.

As in his appointments last week, she needled the stress points on his right ear and worked her way down the table, tucking the long edge of the towel under the waistband of his shorts to have better access to the points along his spine. "Charles, I'm going to try one additional point higher on your back, it's Urinary Bladder 18, a 'shu' point of the liver. Let me know if this hurts."

Charles, face down and muffled by the neck cradle, began to ask, "You think there's something going on with my liv–" when he instinctively let out a blood curdling scream!

The scream was so loud that those in the office below Isobel's actually heard it through the old wood floor and drop ceiling. The two women who had been in deep in conversation and one large grey dog who had been sleeping at their feet – sporting an Elizabethan collar - were all startled by the sound from above.

"Crikey, Isobel, what the bloody hell are you trying to do to me?" Charles demanded, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

Isobel just stared slack-jawed down at Charles's back unable to answer him or otherwise move. She too was shocked - and horrified - not for having done anything wrong to cause Charles to scream but in the realization that it was not just a liver point, but a key "relationship" point she had just needled on his body.

In Isobel Crawley's professional opinion, Charles Carson desperately needed a woman in his life.


	8. Chapter 8: And BOGO was His Name-O

Friday, 2 March 2018

7:00 am  
Becky's 48th birthday had arrived. In addition to the spa appointments for her and Elsie, Becky wished for chocolate chip and banana pancakes for breakfast. Elsie had learned that from Becky on a Tuesday evening phone call, after her birthday morning had already filled up with appointments.

Elsie was now trying to hustle herself and Igor out the door to pick up Becky when she realized she had almost left her to-do/ shopping list for the day behind on the kitchen counter. The list included new sneakers for Becky whom she noticed in Brighton last Friday was needing a new pair; Martha a new nightie and for Elsie herself, a new electric heat pad and perhaps a new spring dress – but only if she found a great one. They would drop Igor back home before the shopping and likely take the Tube anyway. They would cap the afternoon with High Tea and then Becky was spending the night, a crowning element of her special day.

When Elsie was finally out the door, she was reminded that the snow – coming down for a fourth day in a row - was sticking to the windshields again. Hers, as it turns out, was a mess from the alternating snow and melting. Once she had Igor settled in the boot, she put her purse and shopping bag in the front passenger seat and brushed the snow off the car and scraped the windshield. Traffic was crawling due to an accident and Elsie repeatedly checked the time on the dashboard as they drove to Becky's.

7:35 am  
Elsie pulled in the driveway a full 20 minutes later than she'd intended. She knocked on the front door and quickly turned the door handle, surprised that Becky wasn't right there waiting for her. Instead, she found Becky sitting in her chair at the dining table as the others - Beverly, Medrith, Brittany, Fatima, and Chloe - were all sitting down to their breakfasts.

"Good morning, ladies and happy birthday my sweet Becky! I'm afraid we need to run if we're going to have those special pancakes you wanted for your birthday and get to the spa as scheduled."

"Oh yes, I'm ready!"

"Well let's put yer coat on, honey." Just then Elsie noticed that Violet's nails were painted, well, violet. Incredulous as the sight was, Elsie didn't say anything, instead she rolled her eyes in Becky and Miss Rose's direction at their undoubted collaboration.

As Becky was moving toward the door, Rose handed Becky a small fabric bag adding, "Your polish and snack are together in here, Becky. I hope your birthday is beyond your wildest dreams!"

9:45 am  
Facials done, Becky confirmed she wanted her nails painted the same 'Ultra Violet' color as Violet who now positioned herself beside Becky's pedicure chair on the end of the row. Elsie, on the other hand, contemplated the rack of bottles whilst nibbling on her lower lip. Narrowing to two subtler shades of pink, 'Abbey's Rose' and 'Lady Chatelaine's Lover,' Elsie wondered to herself who comes up with these names. Becky advocated for something bolder than either but Elsie explained the manicure would take her through a party next week Sunday and until she knew what she was going to wear, she didn't want to commit to anything beyond a neutral. In the end, Elsie chose Lady Chatelaine's Lover.

As the nail technician was working on her toenails, Elsie again began to worry about the time and so she called Beryl from the chair, advising she was concerned about arriving at the Veterinary Clinic by 11:30.

Remembering her matchmaking scheme hinged on Charles and Elsie both being at the Clinic at the same time, Beryl advised again that, "The boys are closin' the doors at 12:00 sharp." And so Elsie sat through the rest of the pedicure, manicure and under the dryer in an anxious rather than relaxed mode for fear of missing the window of opportunity. After paying the salon cashier, Elsie hustled Becky and Violet back to the car in the hopes of shaving a minute or two. Elsie knew something was amiss even before they reached the vehicle as she could see Igor had made his way out of the boot and into the back seat. "Oh no, oh no!" Elsie said aloud as she clicked the key fob. Hearing the doors unlock, Igor was scrambling to return to the boot. As Elsie opened the rear door cursing Igor's name, she found a wax paper wrapper unfolded with bite marks through one section. Igor had eaten Becky's snack. "Oh, Becky, honey, you've got to be careful with Igor. He simply has no manners!" Then looking at the dog himself, she admonished him, "Bad dog!" She had no time now to deal further with the dog who had managed to climb back in the boot. Elsie got Becky and Violet settled into the back seat before hopping behind the wheel. Fortunately, there was no other damage immediately obvious, and thank goodness she hadn't brought along her shoes that she planned to bring along for the shopping expedition. 

11:25 am  
Charles Carson exited the Tube station, Lady inside her soft-sided pet carrier in Charles' right hand, a zippered garment bag draped over his left. Amidst navigating his way around the other pedestrians and their parcels, Charles noticed the florist at the station entrance had a lovely display of fresh flowers with a few melting snowflakes on their blossoms beside a sandwich board declaring "Spring is here! Two for one." It was a hopeful though contradictory sight at this business just a block down from the Veterinary Clinic.

Charles walked into the Clinic right on time for Lady's scheduled appointment. Beryl looked up from her desk, a little surprised if not disappointed to see him. Regardless, she welcomed him over to the front desk and was making small talk with him including acknowledging the garment bag and offering to hang it up, not on the coat tree in the waiting area but in the normally private storage closet. Charles thanked her but was certain that on the coat tree would be fine. Next Beryl offered him coffee or tea and made a point of asking how Lady had been doing of late. Other than Beryl's palpable anxiousness, Charles was oblivious to her stall tactics. But Bill, having heard Charles's voice, appeared from out back, asking as he approached, "Are those the Carsons I hear?" The two men greeted one another and Beryl offered an awkward half smile to her husband as she realized Lady's appointment would likely only be a short one, and Elsie had yet to arrive at the Clinic.

11:40

Elsie and her entourage of Becky, Violet and Igor arrived prompting Beryl to mutter through a deep exhale, "Thank God." Only her relief was short-lived as Elsie, shooing the others in explained from the doorway, "Sorry Beryl, a few mishaps on the way and I am double parked. But Igor's here and Becky will stay here with him and Violet. I'm going to dash down to the car park and be back ASAP."

Beryl opened her mouth to reply but saw it was a lost cause as Elise was already on the far edge of the sidewalk checking both ways for traffic, the Clinic door not yet closed behind her. Beryl stood motionless for a moment before processing Becky's presence. "Oh, love, don't you look pretty?"

As Becky settled the dogs in the waiting area and herself into one of the seats there, Beryl had left the confines of the reception desk to chat with her. Beryl was subtly swaying side to side and repeatedly folding her hands into fists and then straightening her fingers as she spoke with Becky. She tried to pay attention as Becky sweetly told her all about the morning so far – the pancakes, salon services, Igor's eating her snack – but kept looking out the window in the hopes of seeing Elsie returning.

But before Elsie had returned Charles stepped out from the back, leading Lady on her leash. "Ah, Mrs. Mason, seems we're all set here but I wonder – " Charles halted both his feet and mouth as soon as he recognized Igor in the waiting room, only there was no Ms. Hughes with him, instead a black Lab and a woman who looked enough like Ms. Hughes that Charles took a double take.

Turning around to address Becky again, Beryl was so startled to see Charles standing there, her right arm flew up to her face and she even jumped slightly. "Oh," Beryl's voice was more highly pitched than usual and Charles thought he detected a slightly nervous laugh accompanying just that one syllable. Wringing her hands together, Beryl strode over to Charles and stopped at his side. "Mr. Carson, may I introduce you to Miss Becky Hughes. Becky, this is Mr. Carson."

The seated woman smiled up at him while swinging her lower legs to and fro under the seat. "Hi Mr. Carson. Today's my birthday!"

Charles still wasn't quite tracking with the situation he'd walked into and looked from the younger woman in front of him, the black Lab with the service vest at her side and then to Beryl, who smiled up at him and awkwardly tried to direct his attention back to Becky by ever so slightly tipping her head in Becky's direction.

The younger woman continued speaking, "I had pancakes for breakfast my sister ate avocado toast with poached eggs." There was a brief pause as she registered that Charles had not yet acknowledged her. "What do you like better for breakfast?"

To end the awkward silence, Beryl prompted Charles with, "Mr. Carson, Becky asked you a question."

Snapped from his woolgathering, Charles replied, "Oh, I beg your pardon. Um – " and he pretended to consider the options deeply. "Of those two options, I should think pancakes! Happy Birthday, Miss Hughes!"

And suddenly it was as if nothing unusual had happened a moment ago. Becky smiled at his concurring with her birthday selection and Beryl let out a subtle sigh of relief as Charles effortlessly began to converse with the woman who clearly had some underlying developmental disability. And before Beryl knew it, Becky was nattering on about an endless stream of information including, "Igor ate my snack. My service dog…Igor's sister…" Charles missed half of what Becky was sharing because the situation was so surreal to him. He was pulled from his reverie again by Becky's question, "What's your dog's name?"

Elsie had walked through the door and was similarly as startled as Beryl was moments ago by the scene in front of her. Overlooking Beryl's presence entirely, Elsie didn't even realize she was smiling as she acknowledged the others, "Becky, Mr. Carson!"

Walking to Becky's side, Elsie continued, "Becky, honey, you're usually not this talkative with strangers."

"He's not a stranger, Beryl introduced us. And I want to know his dog's name."

Remembering the last time she'd pet the little Scottie, Elsie put her hands on her knees, bowed slightly at the waist and then proceeded to lower herself further down into a lady-like with knees together squat. Her left knee popped just before she was all the way down. "Ouch." Elsie acknowledged, before shaking her head slightly and reaching out to the Terrier. "This is Shrimpie." As she scratched the little dog behind her right ear, she looked up and smiled at Charles, "Hello, Mr. Carson. We meet yet again." Neither Elsie nor Charles even registered Beryl's presence, Becky's partly.

Out of sight from Elsie, Beryl cheered her friend on with a little fist pump and smile of her own. Yet she was terribly interested in how this conversation would unfold so she stayed put to hear all she could. Beryl heard Charles inquire of Igor's wellbeing, some mention of Greenwich Park and a "mishap" followed by Elsie explaining to Becky that, "Mr. Carson had tossed balls to Igor in the park and he waded into the pond afterward."

Becky inquired of Charles, "Mr. Carson, why did you wade into the pond?" 

Beryl snapped back into the moment when Charles and Elsie laughed. Rising up to standing, Elsie clarified for Becky that it was Igor who had waded into the pond.

Charles himself didn't even realize how happy he was to see Elsie again, twice in one week. He thought she looked more fetching than ever, her face had a good, healthy glow to it. Charles expressed that he was so glad Igor was fine after all and he apologized once more for his part in last Sunday's adventures. Politely turning his attention deliberately toward Becky, Charles inquired of what the rest of her birthday entailed. He found himself charmed by the younger Hughes sister in a similar, though very different way, than her sister. And suddenly he had an idea.

"Miss Hughes, would you kindly watch Shrimpie for me for a minute or two? I'd like to run down the street to purchase something."

Becky agreed enthusiastically, thrilled to feel important. And with that, Charles handed her the leash and excused himself, promising to "be right back."

Elsie turned to watch him leave and suddenly she saw her friend Beryl standing there with a silly grin on her face. "What?"

"You're adorable together!" Beryl gushed. "All three of ye!"

"Oh stop it! He's just being polite."

"Oh no, there's more to it than that! He's sweet on you. I can see it – there's magic between you!"

"Beryl Patmore Mason, you have a wild imagination!"

Beryl was about to protest when Bill entered the waiting room. "Doesn't she! Now what's she done?" Bill chortled.

"Oh, never mind. I'm trying not to," Elsie replied as she sat down beside Becky.

Like Beryl, Bill had known Becky for years and as he sat down on Becky's other side, he picked up Shrimpie and placed her in Becky's lap. When the dog settled into one spot, Becky resumed the scratching behind the ear that Elsie had done moments ago. Bill began to pet Violet before Igor, jealous of the attention, wormed his way in. Bill soon found himself with two handfuls of dog.

"Beryl, if Dr. Parker's going to get out of here at noon, I hope he's coming along soon."

Bill looked up quizzically, "What are you talking about, Elsie? Andy's here straight until 5:00 today."

At that, Elsie looked up at Beryl scrunching her eyes into slits at her longtime friend. "What are you up to?" Elsie demanded to know.

At that moment, Charles re-entered the Clinic, two bunches of yellow daffodils in his hands and walked straight toward Elsie and Becky. "For you Miss Hughes, Happy Birthday!" He handed the first bunch to Becky who, in leaning forward to accept them, stirred Shrimpie to a seated position in her lap. "And for you, Ms. Hughes, with my apologies once again for my part in Igor's Sunday swim."

Flowers. When was the last time a man had given her flowers? Four years? Five years?

Becky was ecstatic, no one ever gave her flowers, birthday or otherwise – save for their da. "Thank you Mr. Carson!" Becky gushed. Elsie was touched, not just for her own flowers, but for how nicely this near stranger was treating her sister. As a real person. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Carson," Elsie smiled back at him in gratitude, tears coming to her eyes.

Dr. Parker entered the waiting room just then, "Igor?" The dog sat up attentively at the mention of his name. "Are you ready to get that collar off, boy?" Igor barked approvingly prompting all the adults to laugh.

Elsie stood to follow Dr. Parker yet stopped in front of Beryl to look her dead in the eye with a steely gaze. "I hope we don't take too much of your time, Dr. Parker. I understand you have a busy afternoon planned." Elsie raised her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly, a silent signal to Beryl that she was on to her games. Beryl held her breath in anticipation, before Elsie spun on her heel back to Charles. In an instant she was sweet Elsie again. "Mr. Carson, thank you again, sincerely. You have done your good deed for the day – and a very kind one at that." She and Igor then followed Dr. Parker to Exam Room 2 to remove Igor's collar and stitches.

Charles watched them go and when they were out of view, he looked down at his watch and realized he needed to run. He had an appointment to travel to elsewhere in town. He retrieved Shrimpie from Becky's loving arms, put her back in her carrier and said his goodbyes including a very genuine, "Miss Hughes, it's been a pleasure meeting you, on your birthday no less. I wish you a wonderful rest of you day and all good things in the year ahead!" He nodded to all, shook hands with Bill Mason and then grabbed his garment bag off the coat tree, to head back to the Tube station down the street.

12:30 pm

Charles entered his favorite haberdasher. He'd been shopping there for years and the owner, John Bates, warmly greeted him at the door upon his arrival. John had been expecting him.

Charles held up the garment bag explaining what he'd brought along, and then the animal carrier. John assured him it was not an issue to have the dog in the shop, so long as she stayed inside the carrier. As Lady was asleep, Charles knew there was very little chance that she would want to get out. And so he put the carrier down where John suggested and followed him to the counter to unzip the garment bag.

Inside was a two-piece navy suit that John remembered admiring previously. It was well crafted and stylishly detailed as was common in custom-made pieces from Hong Kong, like this one. It had striking yet subtle detailing in the purple thread used to construct the buttonholes. The silk lining was an even more eye-catching purple, fuscia and sky blue large print paisley.

Charles next pulled out a fabric shoe bag and a new pair of cognac colored leather Oxfords. John was immediately taken by the subtle quarter brogue, rounded cap toe, two-toned stacked heel and inquired of the maker. Having purchased others in the past, Charles knew it to be from Base London, the Butler model.

Charles explained that he was attending an anniversary brunch next weekend, the suggested attire being described as "festive formal." Charles asked for John's guidance on whether he thought the suit appropriate for that and what he suggested for pairing with it underneath the jacket. Also, Charles had lost a half stone since last wearing the suit and wished to have the waist taken in and purchase a new belt to match the shoes.

John agreed the suit would be perfect and began pulling a few shirts that would pick up on the purple detailing of the buttonholes. As Charles narrowed down to a couple he liked, one a tone-on-tone pale pink hound's tooth, the other a pink and violet gingham plaid, John suggested a couple of jumper vests that would be a nice extra layer in transitional weather that would likely carry him into May and also work well with his Winter coloring; further, they were buy one-get one currently. Charles asked John if he thought a tie necessary for next weekend's festivities and he replied that he thought it optional. Nonetheless, seeing an opportunity for an additional sale, John picked out a striped tie that he knew would go with either of the new shirts. Charles thought the mix of solid, pattern and stripe might be getting a bit much but John assured him professional men were mixing and matching to this degree quite frequently anymore. In the end, Charles opted not to purchase the tie, somewhat fearful of having to actually knot it successfully with his shaky hand.

John picked out a belt and Charles retreated into the dressing room for the pants fitting and tailoring. Whilst he was there, Charles received a text from Robert/ Ham. _Change of plans, tomorrow okay?_

Charles typed back, _Of course._

As he was ringing up the sale, John suggested some printed "Happy Socks" to just be the finishing touch to his look. Charles was still been in the afterglow of the morning visit to the Veterinary Clinic for he agreed to purchase the socks, something that otherwise would have been completely out of character.

4:00 pm

After returning home with the car and depositing dog and flowers at Elsie's, the Hughes sisters had a similarly successful afternoon of shopping. It took her trying on several pair at two different shops, but they eventually found sneakers that gave Becky the good arch support she needed but looked sufficiently "cool."

Elsie picked up the heat pad she wanted at Boots and then at John Lewis they shopped the lingerie department, finding a terrific buy one get one deal on sleepwear. Becky said she didn't need anything and rather than purchasing two for Martha, Elsie picked out a cute one for herself. As they were heading to exit the main entrance, Elsie stopped to look at the dresses. She would have loved to shop longer but Becky was getting hungry. Despite the replacement snack they'd picked up at home, the lack of protein was catching up with her. So Elsie decided they should proceed to their afternoon tea.

Soon after they'd settled at their table, Elsie's phone rang. It was Martha. Martha was calling to wish Becky a happy birthday before the day was out. The two of them chatted for a couple minutes before Becky returned the phone to Elsie. Martha was pleased to hear about the new nightie Elsie had picked up and asked when she thought she might drop it off. Elsie advised not tomorrow, she was hosting Girls Night. Instead, she hoped to bring it over Sunday, she might bring Becky too. That pleased Martha to no end.


	9. Chapter 9: Man's Best Friend

Saturday, 3 March 2018

7:45 am

For the third time since climbing into bed last night, Elsie woke. The new heat pad which she had plugged in had timed out every 2.5 hours and as the residual heat wore off, her core cooled off as well, prompting her to wake chilled. Whilst she slept best in a cool atmosphere, her preference during the winter months was for all warm and toasty under the covers.

Toast. She suddenly realized she was hungry and was startled in fact to see how late it was. No wonder she was hungry as the new heat pad had already earned its keep with the extra hours of sleep it had afforded her this morning. It probably also helped that her bedroom was void of the dog that was famous for generating offensive odors in his sleep. It had been a long seven months with him.

Elsie listened for a moment and could only hear silence. The others must be asleep yet. Across the hall on her way to the loo, Elsie peeked in on her guest room. Becky was sprawled out on the double bed, Igor snuggled up beside her on top of the blankets, and Violet - Becky's best friend - on the floor at the side of the bed. Igor knew better, and so did Becky; which one caved was the question.

Elsie pulled the door shut to just a crack and went to the loo before proceeding downstairs. She was disappointed with the weekend forecast that her phone spelled out; 70% chance of rain tomorrow meant she best squeeze in her long training walk today.

Elsie set the table for two and pulled out the breakfast items whilst the kettle was heating. Toast, Nutella and sliced banana was their usual breakfast when Becky slept over. It wasn't Elsie's favorite but sounded good this morning; deep down she had a craving for something warm and gooey to fill her up. When the tea had just begun to steep, Elsie went upstairs to wake the trio. Elsie coaxed Becky out of bed with the mention of Nutella and the dogs followed after them downstairs. Elsie let the dogs outside and turned toasting responsibilities over to Becky when she came down, she always liked to feel helpful.

Leaning over to wipe crumbs from the corner of Becky's mouth, Elsie explained the weather situation and her need to train for the May fundraising walk. "I don't want to walk in the rain tomorrow and so want to switch my walk to today. I think it's too long for you to be with me the whole time, but perhaps we can walk you home, that should take about an hour, and then Igor and I can continue on."

"May I wear my new sneakers?" 

"Oh, honey, that's probably not a good idea. You'll want to wear them around inside the house first, break them in."

"I want to bring my bunch home though."

"Your bunch?"

"My bunch. My bunch of flowers. From Mr. Carson."

The flowers. How could she forget? She had put each bunch in its own vase, Becky was very clear one bunch was hers, the other Elsie's. Elsie's sat on the end of the kitchen counter so that neither dog knocked them over on a lower elevation. Becky had insisted hers go on her bedside last night and they were still there now.

Elsie turned around in her chair and admired the daffodils that had opened up considerably overnight. Her mind went back to the Clinic yesterday when Mr. Carson had presented them to her and Becky. It was such a thoughtful gesture. Next, she thought about their chance encounter last week in Greenwich Park and then the original meeting in the Clinic. It was strange to run into the same new acquaintance three times in two weeks in a city as large as London, especially when you don't live near one another. Elsie remembered that from Mr. Carson's vague gesturing of where "home" was relative to the Thames, with Elsie's place much further south. "Do you?"

"I'm sorry Becky dear, what did you say?" Elsie asked in clarification. She honestly hadn't heard what came before.

"Do you like him?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Carson, duh!"

"Becky, please don't 'duh' me. It's not nice." She paused. "Do I like Mr. Carson? Honey, he seems a nice man, was very nice to you and me yesterday – but we aren't friends or anything. Wait, what did you and Beryl talk about yesterday after Igor and I went back with Dr. Parker?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing, you don't remember? Nothing, you won't tell me? Or nothing, nothing?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Elsie frowned, "Well, let's see that it stays that way." Just then, Elsie sneezed.

"Bless you, Elsie. Are you getting a cold? If so, you should stay inside, force fluids."

Elsie had to laugh, how Becky remembered that line that had been their mother's from years ago.

"No honey, it's nothing."

"Nothing, nothing?" Becky could be such a tease sometimes.

Elsie shook her head at her younger sister's sense of humor coming out. "Nothing as in nothing more than dog dander, I'm sure. We're surrounded by it! C'mon, let's get dressed and get you home with your friends. And yes, we'll carry your bunch with us."

10:00 am

Elsie returned Becky, Becky's Violet and Becky's daffodils to Becky's group home. Given it was Saturday, Miss Rose was off duty and this weekend's fill in, Chloe's mother Karen, was the one who greeted them at the door. While the two older women caught up, Elsie asked Becky for a hoodie from her room. She wasn't warm enough and with an estimated two hours walking yet to go, Elsie wanted to add an extra layer.

Elsie hugged Becky goodbye and said she'd see her tomorrow. The last thing Elsie heard as she shut the door behind her was Karen asking Becky where she'd gotten the lovely flowers.

12:00 pm

Elsie had grown increasingly concerned over the last 45 minutes that 'nothing' was in fact 'something.' She was feeling more chilled by the mile and was starting to think it wasn't just a cold but the flu coming on. She was heading home to crawl in with her new heat pad again.

2:30 pm

Elsie woke up shivering and with a headache and knew based on the way she felt now, there was no way she'd be up for Girls Night with her best friends as had been planned. She texted Beryl and Phyllis, begging for a reschedule. Of course Beryl was the first to reply with an offer to bring soup over. No, no, Elsie wasn't in the least bit hungry, save for more sleep.

When she let Igor out in the back yard, she couldn't stand next to the slider for any length of time as she normally did, it felt too cold. Grabbing the throw off the vintage steamer trunk behind her sofa, Elsie wrapped herself up as she walked to the kitchen. As lousy as she was feeling, the sight of Mr. Carson's daffodils were a welcome reminder of better days, much better days.

6:00 pm

Charles had gone to the market earlier in the day to be able to set out a few things for when Cora and Robert arrived which was due to be any minute now. He thought back to figure when the last time was he'd seen his best friend and his longtime wife. It had been early December; regardless of their many phone chats since then, it was far too long ago.

6:10 pm

Marco from the Front Desk called up to announce that his guests had arrived, "Ham and Cora" were the names Marco had been given by the gentleman. Charles smiled, it was good to have his best friend on his way up.

Charles opened his front door and stepped out into the hallway even before the lift had a chance to climb to 30. As the lift doors opened, Cora stepped out first with Robert on her heels. Her eyes lit up as she saw Charles standing in front of the door, "Charles, it's been so long," Cora strode over to him and the two exchanged kisses on the cheeks, and a warm embrace. Cora stepped aside and smiled at the sight of the two grown men who'd been best friends for 40+ years wrapping themselves in a big bear hug with one another complete with hearty pats on the back. Charles was the first to speak, though his voice cracked with emotion, "Good to see you, Ham. So good to see you both."

"You too old chap, you too," and Robert himself felt a wave of affection come over him. They'd been through so much together, early bonding as roommates initially thrust together at University; adventures in their respective graduate school locations, he in Versailles, Charles in Florence; first loves – Robert's stuck first, then Charles; best men at their respective weddings; the births of Robert and Cora's two daughters; Christmases, Easters and a few holidays; the passing of both Charles's parents, Robert's father, and most recently, Alice. They'd seen a lot of water under the bridge together, and hopefully many more years ahead.

Finally breaking the embrace, Charles invited them both inside. "Charles, when did you redo the door? It's gorgeous!" Cora had the artistic eye in this marriage and she really did seem to like the door, painted in a very dark green, it had a little orange peel texture to it that made it look like cloth and what appeared to be a double border of tacks. It was exceptionally crafted, as everything was in Charles Carson's life, and had been for decades.

As Charles hung their coats, Robert went ahead in search of Shrimpie, their "granddog." And, as Cora and Charles moved farther inside, they found Robert, already sitting on the floor, cuddling Shrimpie. As Charles went to retrieve and cork the bottle of Prosecco chilling in the refrigerator, Cora stepped straight to the floor to ceiling windows of the condominium; sunset had been some 30 minutes prior and the dark cityscape dotted in lights was as breathtaking as she remembered, perhaps more so.

As Charles prepared to pour, he thought to ask Robert if he would also have Prosecco. Robert initially said yes, but then catching Cora staring him down, he switched his order to sparkling water with cranberry juice, no lime.

Charles carried a tray with two flutes, a highball, shallow bowls of pistachios, hummus, and smoked trout dip, a tray of crackers, olives and crudité to the lounge, really a cluster of furniture in the open plan living area. Cora sat first followed by Charles and then Robert who carried Shrimpie over with him. As Robert raised his glass he offered a simple but heartfelt toast, "To man's best friend."

Cora laughed slightly and tipping her glass in Shrimpie's direction, "Robert, I don't think that came out quite right. I think you meant, "To best friends."

"Thank you darling, yes, to best friends." And the three clinked their glasses.

There was so much to catch up on: Robert and Cora's trip to Switzerland; firsthand impressions of the Olympics relayed from their son-in-law Michael; their respective take on the Games; Edith and Marigold; Tom, Sybil and Sybbie; their Christmas visit to Boston; Robert's mother Maggie; Shrimpie – whom Robert and Cora both observed had aged since last seeing her; and of course Charles. Robert had just inquired about the state of Charles's palsy when Charles realized the time and that they should be leaving for the restaurant so as to not lose their reservation.

Together they moved the remnants of the appetizers to the kitchen. Cora and Charles worked together to wrap the food up and returned them to the refrigerator or cupboard as appropriate whilst Robert put Shrimpie in her kennel.

Abaco was the restaurant they were going to, it was not the fish & chips place that Charles and Robert had discussed via text earlier in the week, instead tapas which worked out fine in that Robert could try a little of almost everything with less risk of aggravating his ulcer. And, the environment was more conducive to conversation which continued amongst the friends.

After they'd ordered the first plates, Robert returned to his inquiry about Charles's hand. Charles acknowledged the acupuncture treatments were helping some, though he purposefully did not mention the pain he'd felt in his back from the one needle during his last visit. He was still upset with Isobel about that, but slowly coming to the realization he really did need to return for his hand.

When Charles tired of the topic but Robert asked one more question about it, Charles laughed it off with, "Come on, enough Merry Medical Christmas letter, Ham!"

Cora put her head in her hands, the inevitable had happened with "the boys" returning to referring to one another by their nicknames for one another. She understood it in the greeting phase of any get-together, but now it was pure silliness in her book. "Charles, Robert, please, no, not tonight." Both men knew she hated it when they did so but it slipped out so naturally as it was second nature after all these years.

The food started arriving and Cora inquired of the recently begun ballet season. Yes, Charles had just been a performance last Sunday afternoon as was looking forward to the rest over the next couple of months. That segued into talk about Sybbie and her ballet lessons and performance Robert and Cora had attended at Christmas and that Sybil was so hopeful Charles would come to visit. They were likely headed back to the UK before the end of 2018 and it would be a shame if he missed the opportunity to visit the US.

That only brought up talk about Shrimpie and who would possibly take care of her, what with the otherwise easy-going Isis just being adversarial with the aging Shrimpie. No, a trip to Boston was out of the question in Charles's mind, and he was fine with that.

"Why, what's keeping you home?" Robert asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing, you've met a woman? Nothing, you won't tell us? Or nothing, nothing?"

Charles just glared at Robert. He was his oldest and dearest friend, practically a brother and yet it infuriated him to have him probe on the relationship topic with ever more frequency.

"Nothing, nothing." Charles curtly replied without looking him in the eye.

"I don't understand why you are 100% opposed to finding someone again! If you aren't finding anyone in your own circles, expand the search! Get on one of those online dating sites or whatever. You're a plum catch, old chap! My God, you're well-mannered, thoughtful, engaging, smart, accomplished, dynamic, original, strong, athletic – "

Sensing the agitation building in Charles, Cora interrupted, gently placing her hand on her husband's forearm in the process, "Robert…Robert, enough. Charles doesn't want to hear it, my dear."

"Handsome. Cora, isn't he handsome? Well-dressed, groomed, financially secure –"

"Old and broken." Charles added.

Robert looked at his friend incredulously. "I don't believe that for one moment! My God, you're a Renaissance man!"

"Look!" Charles realized he'd raised his voice a little too loudly when other diners nearby turned heads in their direction. Cora was now bolt upright, eyes fixed on Charles. Looking around and then leaning in to keep his voice down yet still be heard, he continued. "Robert, Cora, I know you mean well. God, I know you and everyone else that brings up the bloody topic of my love life - or yes, continued lack of love life - means well, and you're my best friends. But sorry old man, you were in second place for a lot of years and until you sit…until you sit and helplessly watch the person you love go through hell and not come out the other side, but instead find yourself grieving the loss of that person that you spent decades with -" He'd lost his steam and composure and took a moment to regain them. "Just don't, _please_ don't go and sing my praises. Even now. I'm comfortable with the man I am. I'm okay with where my life is. Yes, I'm all those things you mentioned earlier, but , eHarmony, OKCupid, blah, blah blah, that's _not_ me. I am…I am trying to rebuild but even after three years, it is two steps forward, one step back, every bloody day."

Closing his eyes as an expression of his exasperation, Charles continued, "I need it to be real. I need _her_ to be real. And I will know her when I see her. Trust me."

The diatribe had loosened an errant curl on the left side over his forehead. Charles was oblivious to that detail himself and silence descended on their table. Charles reached for his glass, right hand shaking obviously. Regardless, he continued until his most troublesome hand held his glass, the liquid swaying as he brought it to his lips before setting it back down.

Taking a deep breath, Charles spoke once more, "Now, if you'll excuse me a moment, I need some air." And he scooted his large frame out of their round booth.

Cora remained silent as Robert collapsed against the backrest. "Well, I just made a mess out of this evening."

"That's enough. Let's not talk about it any further now." She looked over her husband's shoulder to see Charles exit the restaurant. Their waiter came over, cleared the table and Robert asked for the check. Robert had just run his credit card through the portable card swiper the waiter had brought over when Charles returned to the table, plopping down on the bench.

"Cora, Robert, I apologize for my behavior a moment ago. Please forgive me."

"No On, forgive me," Robert replied sincerely.

There were a few awkward though harmless words between them still when it was decided they should all leave. Robert keyed in a mytaxi request once his coat was on outside the cloakroom. Robert asked genuinely, "Will we see you at Easter? Mama already asked of you."

"Yes, see you for Easter." Charles kissed Cora on the cheek, and gave Robert a quick hug before heading out the door alone to walk the three blocks back to the South Bank Tower.

Their taxi drove right past Charles when he was halfway home. "Oh Cora, I hate to see him still so lost," Robert sighed against his doorframe.

Turning around so she could see a last glimpse of Charles through the rear window, Cora said, "Oh darling, I think you're mistaken. I think he's getting his mojo back. I think he's already met someone," Cora smiled knowingly across the backseat of the dark taxi.


	10. Chapter 10: Scratch

Thursday, March 8 2018

8:30 am

There were so many things Charles Carson needed to do today and he was itching to get on with them. It was unusual for him to have such a packed day, it almost felt like he was working again. In a way he was, volunteering at least.

This morning he was due to meet four others from the South Bank Tower's landscaping committee in the 25th floor Winter Garden for discussion about replacing some of the plants in the floor-to ceiling living wall on the west side of the room. It had received a significant refresh not quite a year ago. That refresh was orchestrated by one of the fellow volunteers, Thomas Barrow, who conveniently was one of the neighbours celebrating his first anniversary on Sunday. Barrow had pushed through the early 2017 refresh in large part to prepare for the wedding ceremony itself which had been conducted in the Winter Garden.

There was also spring clean up to begin outdoors on the building's community deck and garden. The committee agreed that the sun was such a welcome change, they wanted to go off and do the outdoors work first.

With so many helpers, the work went quickly; For general pruning and clean out, Charles assigned those tasks to others given the need for more precision than his hand was able to deliver. He and Barrow followed them up with the hand rakes scratching the topsoil to loosen it for new growth that would begin soon.

Outdoor work completed, the team moved the last baskets of garden waste under the building's overhang for the maintenance team to remove for composting. The conversation inside was fairly quick regarding the living wall with the one team member who has her master gardener's license suggesting which plants would be best and offering to look into pricing and get back to the committee next week. She wondered if another meeting next Thursday morning would be feasible for the members.

"Well, I'll be away that day, second honeymoon and all. But don't wait for me," Barrow suggested. As committee chair, Charles suggested that she email all when the pricing information was in hand and that so long as they met and had a recommendation to present at the next Board meeting on Tuesday the 27th, timing would be fine.

The ladies said their goodbyes but Barrow and Charles lingered for a moment. "Your reply card delighted us, Mr. Carson. We are so pleased that you are able to join us on Sunday."

"Looking forward to it, though I don't know as I'll know many people there. I mean, beyond yourself and Simon."

"Oh, there will be others from the building, Ms. Denker and the Talbot family, for example. Besides, it's all about having a good time! Well, it's about us, but we hope everyone has a good time. Are you heading up now, Mr. Carson?" Thomas asked as he moved to hit the call button for the lift.

"Yes, all the way up. I have been meaning to check in on the green roof, see how things are looking up there, and might as well do it when I have my wellies on," Charles said gesturing toward his feet.

"Okay, well, it's bound to be a little nippy way up there. Don't be out long. Bye, Mr. Carson. See you Sunday – if not before."

"So long, Thomas."

Thomas boarded the lift that was heading down and waved goodbye as the doors closed. Right then the other lift arrived, heading up. Charles had positioned himself in front of the double doors and prepared to step inside only to be greeted by two unexpected yet familiar faces as the doors opened. "Mr. Carson!" the little blond-haired boy exclaimed with delight as he let go of his mother's hand and bounded toward Charles.

"Master George Talbot! What a pleasant surprise! Wait, shouldn't you be at pre-school?" Charles turned from jovial to serious.

Mary Talbot, the boy's mother explained, "He should, and his mother would prefer that be the case but there is in-service training for the teachers today and tomorrow. So we are here for some time in the pool before going to have lunch with daddy."

"I see, that explains your trunks, towel and goggles," Charles pointed down at George's get up.

Holding out the blue mesh bag that had been hidden under the towel, George added, "And my water wings. I'll put those on after I take off my t-shirt. Are you here to go swimming too, Mr. Carson?" The boy asked hopefully.

"No, lad. I'm afraid not. Though since I don't go to school normally, I have been swimming many mornings this winter to get my exercise in. But the chlorine gets to be a bit much, drying out my skin and it itches. Had to buy myself a new bamboo back scratcher. There are days I wish I had it with me wherever I go." Charles looked up toward George's mother, Mrs. Talbot or Mary as she kept encouraging he should address her. The woman smiled in acknowledgement of Charles's comment. "I'm here right now because I've been here working on the garden and now heading up to the roof."

"Like Batman!" George jumped up and down excitedly. Mary put her hand on her son's shoulder to calm him. "Can I go with you? Mummy, please?"

"Sorry, George, you have to be at least this high to go up there," Charles explained as he held his hand up to his own chest. And even then, you might have to pack rocks in your pockets so you don't blow away!"

George was obviously disappointed and started to sulk, looking down at the floor. "Mrs. Talbot, Mary I mean, Thomas Barrow is on the landscape committee with me and he said that you and Mr. Talbot, Matthew, are going to be at the anniversary brunch this weekend."

"That's correct. George as well. Will we see you there, Mr. Carson?" This latest twist perked George up for he liked Mr. Carson.

"Yes, indeed. Well, lovely to see you both, but I need to be heading on up to the roof. If you'll excuse me, I bid you a pleasant day and see you Sunday." Charles held out his hand for George to shake, which the young boy did, giggling when Charles simultaneously shook his hand and tickled the boy's palm.

"Until then, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Talbot smiled as she ushered her son toward the pool.

After a brief stop up on the roof, Charles came back down to his condominium, took Lady out for a short walk and then showered and changed for his 11:00 hair cut appointment.

11:00 am

Charles walked into the Shear Thrill salon, surprised to see it so busy on a Thursday late morning. The new receptionist whom he did not recognize greeted him and Charles explained he was here to see Anna.

Momentarily, Anna walked to the front dressed in her customary black smock and greeted this familiar customer, one of her long-time favourites, "Mr. Carson." She stood with her arms extended, inviting a hug.

"Anna, oh, it's good to have you back. How's the baby?" Charles did give the new mum a loving embrace and peck on the cheek. He had last seen her in November as she had been on bedrest for about a month before the birth and nine weeks maternity leave.

"Well, I thought you'd heard all about him from John last week, but I'm glad to fill in any blanks. Come on back, Mr. Carson," and Anna waved him along to the shampoo bowls.

As she shampooed Charles's hair, Anna scratched at his scalp which left Charles only half comprehending what all Anna was saying about the baby, the whole process felt so relaxing. Next, after rinsing the shampoo, she massaged in the conditioner. Charles gently moaned his appreciation. "Oh Anna, I missed that while you were gone. Judi gave me good haircuts, but her scalp massages were nothing like yours."

"Aww, that's kind Mr. Carson, but like I've offered, I'm happy to teach you. Then you wouldn't have to wait six weeks."

"Yes Anna, you've offered, but I like someone else doing so."

Anna brought Charles to her barber chair, draped the cape over his shoulders and set to work. So many barbers and stylists he'd been to over his 61 years were just plain chatterboxes, including Judi whom he'd gone to twice during Anna's maternity leave. But Anna was different, she listened years ago when he first commented how relaxing she made it feel to have his hair cut and let him do exactly that. In time, she gained his trust and Charles would simply close his eyes whilst Anna combed and cut his hair, on the brink of falling asleep in the chair. Oftentimes, there was very little conversation between the two. If she needed him to move his head this way or that, rather than say so, Anna simply guided it with her hands. She did precisely that when it was time to trim the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Anna's asking, "Mr. Carson, were you hoping to get a shave today?" brought him back to fully conscious.

"No, thank you Anna, but could you wax my ears and clean up the brows a bit? Oh, and I see your favorite curl is still as errant as always."

As she changed heads in the electric trimmer Anna replied, "As always indeed. I'll hit it with extra pomade of course but the only way to tame it completely remains cutting it away. And that would be such a shame." Handing him the hand mirror and spinning around the chair, Anna let Charles see all of her handiwork.

Approvingly, Charles thanked her, "Well done as always, Anna. It really is great to have you back."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. Now, I'm only working part-time, Thursdays through Saturdays. Please keep that in mind, I really appreciate your loyalty. Oh, and I almost forgot to say thank you for the blocks set that you gave Jack. We look forward to him playing with them, maybe grow up to be an architect like you."

"You're all very welcome, I hope to meet the little man someday but for sure see you in five weeks. In the meantime, I'm actually off to your husband's shop right now to pick up some alterations."

Anna giggled, "I'd ask you to relay on a kiss for me, but I don't think that would go over right with either of you. So I'll just say goodbye and leave it at that. See you in five weeks."

Charles paid for his haircut, left a cash gratuity for Anna inside an envelope, made his next appointment and proceeded to the closest Tube station to head back to the haberdasher to pick up his clothes.

12:20 pm

As Charles approached the shop, he found John Bates outside on the sidewalk speaking into his smart phone. Bates shook Charles's hand in greeting and waved him inside gesturing toward the phone as if to say another minute and he'd be inside.

Charles walked in and greeted assistant salesperson Jack Ross. He complimented the young black man on his attire; Charles could not recall ever seeing him looking anything but 100% dapper. Ross stepped behind the sales counter where Charles recognized his new shirts and old suit hanging on the rack. Ross encouraged him, if he had the time, to try everything on. Satisfied and well-dressed customers were always the best advertisement. As Charles was following Ross back to the dressing room, Bates stepped back into the store.

"Jack, thank you for helping Mr. Carson while I stepped out. Mr. Carson, I hope you'll be pleased with Hung's work."

"Yes, can't wait to see how I look."

"Mr. Carson, I dare say, you're going to have the ladies' heads turning!" Ross's white teeth and smile were simply brilliant.

"Well, we'll see about that, Mr. Ross."

As Charles stepped into the dressing room, Ross hung the garments on the clothes rod and then shut the door behind him, affording Charles his privacy. Before undressing at all, Charles inspected the tailor's handiwork. He was glad to have paid a few extra pounds to have the French cuffs switched to two button mitered cuffs; although he liked the look that cufflinks added, his right hand had difficulty with them any more. When Charles was down to his vest, his back began to itch again. Improvising with a clothes hanger, Charles scratched his back up and down in temporary relief. At that point he proceeded to put the new gingham shirt on, buttoned it up and then changed his trousers. As he slipped into the suit coat, Charles was pleased with how the whole ensemble looked in the mirror.

He exited the dressing room for Ross and Bates to see. "Mr. Carson, looking good indeed! Are you on social media, Mr. Carson?"

"No, why do you ask, Mr. Ross?"

"Because wow, there are going to be ladies all over London tweeting and blogging about you once you step out of this shop looking as good as you do right now! Heck, they'll be chatting you up all over the Commonwealth and beyond!"

Charles chuckled at the compliment. "Thank you, Mr. Ross, very kind of you, but I think you're exaggerating just a tiny bit."

"I tend to agree with him, Mr. Carson. Between the new clothes and the hair cut you just got from Anna, you're looking fine. Here let me take your photo so I can share with her how good our work looks together on you."

Charles shook his head but acquiesced. As he returned to the dressing room, Charles continued. "Now, be sure she doesn't put that on that social media, Mr. Bates."

Charles didn't bother trying on the second shirt, it was the same cut and he knew it would be fine. As he returned to the front of the store he carried out the three loaded coat hangers and approached the counter. "Anna says you look mighty handsome, Mr. Carson." Bates smiled and held up his phone for Charles to read the text. Charles blushed in embarrassment.

Soon, Bates had Charles's clothes packed up in a garment bag ready for transport. Charles bid both men a good day and headed out of the shop.

1:30 pm

Charles arrived back on the 30th floor and promptly unpacked and hung up his clothes in the walk-in closet. He heated up another serving of Chicken Piccata and finished off lunch with a handful of strawberries. Making himself a cup of tea, he went through a bit of snail mail and emails, including a sweet note from Sybbie who had typed it out on Sybil's tablet.

 _Dear CC, pleas giv Shrimpie a hug from me. Luve, Sybbie Branson_

He dashed down to the management office to discuss a problem he had noticed with one of the plumbing fixtures expecting he would simply complete a work order for it to be repaired. Instead, a member of the maintenance team followed him upstairs, made a quick confirmation of Charles's diagnosis and offered to run downstairs for a replacement part that he knew he had on hand. The man was back in 10 and had the repair made in another 5.

Going on 3:00, Charles took Lady outside and then came up to change clothes, donning riding gear. He needed to drop off his road bike to the Cycle Surgery shop in West Hampstead for them to buff out a scratch and repaint it. He wasn't sure when the scratch occurred but he didn't want it to spread. West Hampstead was not a long distance away as the crow flies but Charles was loathe to ride through the London Central Business District. Of course, if he would just settle for a new bike shop closer to home, rather than being loyal to the one he began patronizing back when he and Alice lived in Hampstead, his bike maintenance would be much easier. But he just plain liked the blokes. And the bakery three doors down. After dropping off his bike, he stopped in and purchased a small treacle tart. And then, he boarded the Tube to ride to Isobel's for a 5:00 appointment.

4:50 pm

Charles was anxious as he walked into the small office building. He was surprised to see others already waiting for the lift and when it seemed there was a problem, all opted to take the stairs. He was glad he engaged in the cardiovascular exercises he did, he was not at all winded when he arrived on the third floor. And yet he paused to take a deep breath before entering Isobel's office.

When Isobel came out to greet him, she was entirely professionally proper, despite Charles's gruffness and "we need to talk" attitude.

When they had both taken their usual seats inside the treatment room, Charles began. "Isobel, it's difficult for me to say this, but it's the truth. If my hand weren't continuing to trouble me and your treatments helping to quell the shaking, I wouldn't be here today." He looked at her with disappointment in his eyes. "Pardon my language, but what the hell happened that last time, on my back?"

Isobel took a deep, fortifying breath, rested her palms on her knees and looked Charles in the eye. "I'm glad that I'm able to help your hand. Thank you for coming back and allowing me to earn your trust back." She paused, thinking carefully how to phrase this next part. "Prior to the last visit, I had been needling two points on your back to help treat your prostate issue. As the prostate's enlargement affects the bladder, I wanted to try an additional point associated entirely with the bladder." Again, she paused, but did not immediately continue.

"Go on," Charles encouraged her.

"Urinary Bladder 18 is not exclusive to the health of the bladder, however. It's also associated with the health of relationships."

Furrowing his brow, Charles added, "I don't understand. What do you mean, Isobel?"

Isobel looked even more intently at Charles and raised the right side of her mouth in a half smile. "Your love life, Charles. You screamed when I hit that point because your body is holding in a lot of residual pain, from losing Alice, no doubt. I believe your body bottled up the pain of watching her suffer through her illness followed by her passing and it hasn't been able to rid itself of that pain. You haven't allowed the pain to leave your body, your heart and that pain that was enormous to begin with has just intensified, rather than dissipated as time has passed."

Charles was stunned to silence.

"Now, before you say anything, just hear me out a little bit more. I know I've brought it up previously and you've told me to mind my own business but I remember other conversations, earlier ones that were none of my business initially but Alice made a point of my hearing them. Do you remember them? The ones where she specifically said she wanted you…" Isobel was overcome with emotion. "Alice wanted you to feel you could love again. That you deserved to be loved again."

Charles felt like he'd been hit in the gut. He did remember, he'd remembered before but didn't want to acknowledge that he'd heard Alice. He could hear her voice right now, although faintly. He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes tightly, attempting to ward off the tears to no avail and soon he needed to wipe one away.

Isobel stood up and walked to the tissue box, handing one out for Charles to take.

Sniffling, Charles took the tissue and nodded his thanks to Isobel silently as he wiped his eyes.

"Charles, I am a little embarrassed to admit this, but I'm actually casually seeing two gentlemen that I have met through an online dating app." Charles looked up at her, a mix of disbelief at her admission of "double dating" and wonder at where this was going.

"Will you not go online to meet someone? You're a great catch. I'd help you complete your profile, happy to in fact. For you…for Alice."

"I can't, Isobel. I won't."

Sounding compassionately cross, Isobel inquired, "Well why ever not?"

For the first time with anyone, himself included, Charles Carson admitted to Isobel, "Because I think I may have already met someone. The old-fashioned way."

Scratch That Itch, lyrics by Ratt

You say that you've got nothing to lose

You've got that hunger honey

You gotta feed it

Just open wide I'll take a bite outta you

'Cause I'm ready, are you ready

Love's like a bug that you catch in a snatch

I'm here to treat it baby

You know you need it

You gotta rash and now your hearts gotta scratch

Are you ready, yes I'm ready

You know what I'm tryin to say

Let's put it this way

Scratch, scratch that itch

Scratch, scratch that itch…


	11. Chapter 11: Tail Wagging the Dog

A/Ns

As you get further in, you'll see Martha further channeling Shirley MacLaine's Academy Award Winning Aurora Greenway character. Fun. Also, thanks for sticking with me. If you would have told me three weeks ago when I posted chapter 1 that I'd be 35,000 words in and not yet have Elsie and Charles together yet, I would have thought everyone crazy, myself included. Regardless, last chapter below and then I guarantee they get together! Enjoy!

Friday, 9 March 2018

Elsie escaped the flu last weekend and even much of a head cold in the days that followed by intently resting after she had started to feel poorly and doing what she could to be easy on herself since then. Though by the time she walked home after facilitating her Thursday night group therapy session, she felt the week catching up to her. Knowing the fridge was all but empty, she picked up Pret a Manger take away - a simple sandwich and soup - during the middle of the day with the intent it would be her supper at home after group. Shortly thereafter, she had crawled into bed for the night and slept like a baby.

Rain dominated the entire weekend forecast starting Friday afternoon and so this morning was the only dry option for her training walk. Shortly after 7:00, Elsie and Igor headed out the door. To minimize the commuter traffic interference, this morning she guided them to the south, to Crystal Palace Park, specifically. She hadn't been there in many months yet it was a destination that came to mind. Big mistake being there with Igor, he simply became (more) deranged and protective as they neared the dinosaur sculptures, pulling her toward them. Elsie reigned him in and forged ahead in a circuitous route around the park, but made a note not to bring Igor there again. She had carried along a ball that she tossed for him to chase, but not the ball launcher for fear of wearing him out to the point of needing to cool off in a pond again, the way he had that day two weekends ago when they had met Mr. Carson.

Mr. Carson; she wondered how he was doing. She had contemplated asking Beryl how to reach him to thank him once again for the kind gesture of the flowers he presented to her and Becky at the Yew Tree Veterinary Clinic but didn't want to add Beryl of Monkeys drama to a quite lovely little gesture; on top of a coincidence.

Elsie was balancing the distance of her training walk with the reality that she could not afford to reverse the progress she had made in her recovery this week, as well as the opportunity for additional steps to be taken to the local Sainsbury's and back as she badly needed to restock the fridge. And so they headed home, arriving shortly after 10:00. She got Igor settled with fresh water, herself with the same – warm out of the tap – and a slice of toast before sticking him in the kennel and grabbing her shopping trolley and two other empty bags. The fridge really was empty, and she had the goal of cooking.

By the time she returned, she was again starving, having worked up an appetite thanks to her most-of-the morning workout. She poured a glass of milk, grabbed a couple slides of cheese and a heaping handful of raw veg just to get her over the edge and allow her to keep going putting away the groceries. She didn't put everything away for it was her intent, at the very least, to prepare a lamb stew and shortbreads today. She wanted to see Becky and needed to check in on Martha who was anxious still for her new nightie to be delivered and both would share in the sweet treats, though Becky wouldn't want any of the lamb. A haircut was scheduled for Saturday afternoon and housekeeping – Elsie was embarrassed to admit she'd lost 20 precious minutes earlier this week, on the same morning no less, minutes apart searching for her keys under many piles of papers and such lying about – was on her Saturday docket as well.

Elsie chopped the veg for the stew, browned the meat and dropped them into a big pot to simmer for a few hours before sitting down to a more proper lunch of prepared chicken salad and rocket on fresh sourdough. The bread tasted so good (anymore she tried to avoid gluten, finding that it helped her keep her weight down), she actually moaned her satisfaction aloud, drawing Igor's attention from the parlor where he was otherwise entertaining himself with toys of various sorts. As she ate, Elsie thumbed through a few clothing catalogues that had arrived – Boden, Joules, Sweaty Betty, John Lewis, and Fifty Plus. Increasingly with her busy lifestyle, she found herself shopping online and had ordered from all these, save for the last which annoyed her that "big brother" knew her to be indeed over 50. She knew it was too late to order a new frock for Sunday, but perhaps if something caught her eye, she'd order it for later in the spring. But nothing jumped out at her. She was not an impulse buyer, frugal with her money and her wardrobe space; anything new had to really be special for her to purchase it.

Next, she set about the shortbreads, mixing up the batter and warming the oven before starting to put in tray after tray of the shortbreads to bake then cool. Little did she know she was humming to herself throughout the process. She was neither a great cook nor baker but this she enjoyed.

The last of the shortbreads cooling on the counter, it was well after 3:00 before Elsie even had a chance to head upstairs to shower. She remembered she needed to label Martha's new nightgown so that it wouldn't get lost in the communal laundry and so with her black laundry marker, Elsie wrote "M. LEVINSON" on the inside of the collar, right below the tag at the back.

A few minutes later in the shower, eyes closed and head tilted back, rinsing the conditioner from her hair, Elsie suddenly realized she had left Igor out and alone with dozens of short breads on the counter! She turned the faucet off as quickly as possible, put one towel around her hair, and was toweling off the rest of herself as she ran downstairs. Too late, for Igor had made it up to the counter and had a bellyful of shortbreads as evidenced by the near-empty cooling racks in disarray. "IGOR! You damned dog!" Elsie started to cry. She'd had it. She knew she was as much to blame as him, but blaming him entirely was more satisfying.

Elsie would need to make another batch for she had intended to bring some as well along to the party on Sunday, but rather than start that now, she decided it better to get out of the house soon, let Igor soak in his punishment whilst she ran to see Becky and Martha, before things got too late. She tasted the stew, the meat now nice and tender, and took it off the heat, parsing some of it off into a container for Martha before heading back upstairs – Igor in his kennel this time – to get dressed.

She called Becky and advised she was on her way and to expect her in 45 minutes, they'd go on to Martha's and then have their supper out together at one of Becky's favorite diners, in fact the one where she had first been introduced to chocolate chip and banana pancakes. Surprisingly, Becky wasn't totally enthused with the plan. She knew that at 7:45, she and the other residents of her home were due to sit down to popcorn and the 2014 Paddington movie, in anticipation of an outing tomorrow for Fatima's birthday for all to see Paddington 2 in the cinema.

Igor stood up in his kennel when he saw Elsie putting her coat on, thinking he'd be let out but Elsie had other ideas, "Oh no, Igor. You are staying here." With that, she zipped herself up, grabbed the shopping bag in which she'd put the stew, shortbread tins, sourdough, and Martha's nightie and headed out the door.

4:50 pm

Becky and Violet in the back seat, Elsie parked at Times of Endearment and piled everyone and everything out of the car toward the front door. As usual, they signed in but since she had not notified Martha that they were coming, she was not down to the community room yet. They peeked into the dining room just beyond where some of the oldest residents were already finishing the first evening meal service. Elsie was not surprised, Martha much preferred to eat her evening meal, in the actual evening. So they headed up to Martha's "apartment," a decent size single bedroom unit with private bath, sitting area and kitchenette, though Martha took most of her meals downstairs, it was only when Elsie delivered favourites like the lamb stew that Martha would even use the microwave.

The door was open when they arrived and yet Elsie did not see Martha inside. She knocked, no answer. So she knocked again and called out, "Martha, it's Elsie and Becky."

Becky piped in, "And Violet!" Elsie shushed her, she was attempting to hear an answer when suddenly Martha's voice rang out behind them.

"What are you two doing here?"

All three in their respective coordinated or clumsy ways spun around to see Martha walking toward them, from a door across the hall and down one and brushing off the front of her jumper. "Nice to see you too, Martha," Elsie replied with just a little disappointment in her voice.

"Oh, that's not what I mean," Martha explained as she gave each of them a hug and shuffled into her apartment.

"Where were you?"

"Just across the hall, visiting a new friend." Elsie knew Martha didn't have many friends, her abrasive personality scared many new prospects – and old standbys, in time – away. So, this was a step forward. If someone liked Martha enough to invite her in, that was promising.

Martha went in further and settled into her favorite chair, near the window. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"

"Again, so nice to see you, Martha. Why the interrogation?"

"I mean why are you here _now_?" Looking down at the watch on her wrist, Martha continued, "It's Friday, Fridays are date nights; you should be getting ready for a date, not coming to see some old woman at an assisted living center." Elsie just rolled her eyes. Here they go again, and not even 5 minutes into the visit.

"Well, the old crotchety woman in an assisted living center whom I know best was in need of a new nightgown, and it so happens I know she loves lamb stew and shortbread, both of which I made this afternoon. So, we're here tonight to deliver all."

"Oh, let me see the nightgown!"

Elsie had placed it on top in her bag, so that if any stew leaked out of its container, it wouldn't drip onto the nightgown. Elsie explained their successful shopping trip last week Friday, and the two-for-one sale. Becky described some of the racy garments she'd seen hanging in the lingerie department when Elsie was shopping for Martha's nightie.

As she listened to Becky's descriptions – and giggles – Martha herself was all the more excited to see what Elsie had picked out, so when Elsie finally had the gown out of the bag and held it up for her, Martha's immediate change in expression left no doubt of her disappointment. "What's wrong? I thought it was cute. I know it will be comfortable and perfectly functional."

"Functional."

"What?"

"That's just it, you said it yourself, it's…'functional.' Nothing like what Becky here was describing a moment ago."

"Oh Martha," Elsie just rolled her eyes, her frustration with the older woman rising.

"Oh Martha, nothing. Just because Elsie isn't getting any –"

"Aren't getting any what?" Becky asked in all her innocence.

Both Martha and Elsie looked over at Becky, having almost forgotten she and Violet were there in the room with them. "Never mind, Becky," the two said simultaneously.

"Look, Martha. Need I remind you that your name is written on the neckline of this nightie for a reason, specifically that you reside in an assisted living center for mature adults where the laundry often gets lost despite such preventative efforts. I saw no reason in the store last week nor here today why anyone who has their name written on their clothing so it isn't lost would need anything beyond functional in the way of sleepwear. Now, I'm going to put this in the bedroom, you can wear it or not." Elsie stormed through the bedroom door and tossed the nightie toward the bed. When it fell off the edge onto the floor, Elsie stepped over picked it up, and placed it fully on the bed near the nightstand. As she turned, her eye was caught by three condom pack singles – and her chin just dropped. She stood motionless for a moment, before backing out into the other room.

Taking a deep breath and choosing her words carefully, Elsie pressed her lips together and squinted hard at Martha before asking, "Martha, why do you have…sheathes…on your nightstand?"

Martha looked up at her, then back down at Violet whom she was petting, "Listen, just because you aren't getting any, doesn't mean the rest of us –"

"Not getting any _what_!" Becky demanded to know, louder this time.

Elsie rolled her eyes and replied, "I'm sorry Becky, it's just one of those things that you wouldn't understand and therefore is not important." Seeing Becky's disappointment, Elsie continued in a more uplifting fashion, "But you know what is important that you can help us with? Be a dear and get out a bowl and spoon and bread plate for Martha so that when we leave, she's all set for her supper." That pleased Becky who got up and headed to the kitchenette.

Just above a whisper now, Elsie continued, "Martha, it is my understanding that assisted living environments like this one have become one of the most prominent locations for STDs."

"Yes, you're right, which is why they give out…condoms…to everyone."

"What do you mean give them out?" There was no end to Elsie's shock.

"Exactly what I said, everyone gets two per week. If you don't use them, policy is to put them back, discretely, in collection bins in the public toilets. If you need more, you take them from there. I'm telling you, there's a lot more of us in and out of there than before."

Holding up her hand signaling for Martha to stop, Elsie cut her off from sharing more on the topic.

Soon, they were back to discussing Elsie's overloaded schedule, and lack of a date tonight.

"And I'm willing to bet you don't have one tomorrow, either. What are you doing with your Saturday, you should incorporate some fun into your life," Martha's lecturing continued.

"As a matter of fact, I have an appointment to get my hair cut that I'm looking forward to as my stylist has been away on maternity leave. You remember my mentioning her, Anna, she and her husband are also my next door neighbours to the north. And then I have to figure out what I'm going to wear to an anniversary brunch on Sunday, thank you very much."

"Oh, whose anniversary?"

"You know one of the grooms, Thomas Barrow, remember? I officiated at the wedding last year."

"Oh, yes, I remember you telling me. I would have loved to officiate at a client's wedding – your wedding in particular."

"Enough Martha."

"Elsie, you're such a curmudgeon."

"Only with you Martha, only with you."

Just then an elderly gentleman appeared at Martha's door, knocking and asking, "May I come in?"

All turned in the direction of the door.

"Of course, Gareth. This is a wonderful opportunity for me to introduce you to my dear friends, the darling Miss Becky Hughes and her service dog Violet, and this curmudgeonly beauty is, my professional protégé and personal executor, Ms. Elsie Hughes. Ladies, this is my new friend Gareth Breedlove, from down the hall." Martha waggled her eyebrows so only Elsie could see.

"Pleasure to meet you all, ladies. Martha, I came to take you down to supper."

"Likewise, Mr. Breedlove. We brought some stew and biscuits for Martha to enjoy, herself, and Becky has just set the table for her, as you can see."

"Oh, Elsie, the stew sounds delightful, but I think I'll save that for a midnight snack or lunch tomorrow. Gareth isn't one to buy green bananas anymore, you know?"

Elsie was so confused and didn't want to stay to sort it out, "Okay, I don't know what all that means, I mean, I know what it means on one level, but something tells me there's more to it and I'm just not interested in hearing it. So, in light of tonight's welcome reception and my dear sister who is anxious to tune into an animated, talking bear this evening, I think we'll be leaving. Martha, see you next week."

"After the wedding! I want a full report, bring a few pictures. And Elsie, by all means, wear something with a little style, a little show; you never know who you'll meet at a party!"

Elsie turned from the door and sighed back at Martha, her mentor, "Martha, everyone who was at the wedding last year was either married or gay, or both. Odds are against me."

"Oh, odds, shmodds. Keep you eyes open, Elsie, all you need to find is one, right?"

"The right one."


	12. Chapter 12: Puppy Love

A/N: Friends, the Chelsie ship leaves port! Reviews are most welcome, please!

Sunday, 11 March 2018

Elsie's sour end to Friday improved significantly on Saturday, first with the unexpected appearance of brilliant sunshine. She always enjoyed housekeeping and therefore when she was able to put a few hours into dusting, tidying, Hoovering, purging and cleaning both floors, she was feeling rebalanced. The day got better when she went to her haircut appointment. Though Anna was her next door neighbour, Elsie had been very intentional about scheduling her last appointment before Anna's maternity leave and this one shortly after. Although she'd offered beforehand, Elsie was uncomfortable with the thought of taking away from Anna's precious time with the young bairn. Plus, Elsie just enjoyed treating herself to the salon experience.

Anna was gifted with exceptional social intelligence; even with as much as Elsie's mood had improved over the morning, Anna could pick up on some residual distress. Her suggestion was a fresh little twist to Elsie's hairstyle, nothing major, really just a little bit of different styling. When Elsie went on to mention the anniversary brunch tomorrow, Anna demonstrated an elegant but easy little updo. Except Elsie didn't think it was as easy as Anna was demonstrating. "So, you phone me to come over tomorrow or stop in. I'd be happy to, you know that," was Anna's counterpoint.

They were quite chatty and enjoying one another's company as evidenced by the frequent laughs coming from Elsie's chair. By the time Elsie was leaving the salon, she was flat out projecting joy. It was quite becoming. Anna had one other suggestion: stop in a few doors down, opposite direction of their walk between home and the salon; there was a new little clothing shop, she hadn't stopped in herself but saw some cute outfits other ladies had purchased and shared inside the salon and their happiness cascaded to others. Anna told Elsie that, especially with her not sold on anything from her existing wardrobe to wear tomorrow, she might find a little something. And so Elsie walked down there.

And there was an attractive spring dress right in the window. It was Tiffany blue solid, sleeveless, with a boatneck and hemline that ended above the knee. All along Elsie had planned to wear her multi-colored glittered heels – the most festive item in her entire wardrobe – to the "festive formal" anniversary party and knew the shoes paired best with solids. For the longest while, she also anticipated pairing them with a simple black dress, but that just felt too dark for a brunch party in the month of March. She was excited to find the blue dress in the window and decided to step in to try it on. She simply loved it. Stepping out of the dressing room, Elsie received compliments not just from the staff but a couple fellow customers. She also had an off-white pashmina at home that she could wrap around her shoulders for added warmth. Suddenly Elsie was clear about what she wanted to wear tomorrow. The dress was priced decently and so she bought it.

This Sunday morning started as any other but Elsie was squarely in the mode of getting ready for the anniversary party beginning at 9:30. By 10:00 she had tried to replicate her new up-do a couple of times. Unsuccessful, Elsie called Anna and asked if she would kindly come over to help. Of course, Anna agreed to come over in 15 minutes. Elsie used that time to slip into her dress and hose. Whilst she hated wearing hose, her feet slipped in and out of the tall glitter heels that much easier with them on.

When the doorbell rang announcing Anna's arrival, Elsie was all dressed save for the shoes. And she was yelling at Igor who had started barking at the foreign sound of the doorbell. Bent over holding onto Igor's collar with one hand and opening the front door with the other, Elsie looked awkward yet stunning as she came into view for Anna. "Anna, thank you for coming to my rescue, sorry about the mutt. I hope the baby isn't sleeping."

For one of the few times in the last three months, Anna Bates found herself ignoring the mention of her newborn in favour of something else that had captured her attention. This time, it was her elegantly dressed neighbour and friend Elsie Hughes, in a smart, spring dress that brought out her blue eyes which were currently framed by her auburn tresses hanging loosely on either side of her face. "Oh Elsie, you look amazing."

As she stood up, Elsie asked, "You think so? It doesn't make me look fat?"

"You're kidding, right? Turn around," she instructed. As Elsie did so, Anna continued singing her superlatives. "Honestly, you look simply look stunning. Vibrant…gorgeous, Elsie. Never better. I mean it."

Elsie blushed, completely embarrassed. "Thank you, Anna. I can only imagine what you'll say after you help me with my hair! Please?"

"Of course." And within two brush strokes and 30 seconds, Anna had Elsie's hair up and she looked even more amazing.

Stepping to the loo to look at herself in the mirror, even Elsie was impressed, "Wow" is all she could say at first. She was interrupted by Anna who asked, "Now, let's see your shoes!"

Elsie ran upstairs to fetch them and the matching fun clutch. Descending the stairs carefully, Anna could only watch and break into a wide smile. She was so happy for this hard-working, kind and generous woman she called her friend. If Elsie felt as good as she looked, the world was her oyster today.

Anna had seen Elsie in a lot of different get-ups over the years but never anything as well, girly, as these pumps. Four inch heels, rounded closed toe and a rainbow of colors all sparkling as the light hit them.

"Elsie Mae Hughes, it's a good thing this is a gay wedding anniversary you're going to because any bride would be furious with you for the attention you will otherwise take away from her."

"Oh Anna, thank you! I can hardly wait – and it's a good thing because I need to dash if I'm going to get there by 11 as Thomas and Simon requested. Forgive me for shooing you out."

"Completely understand. How are you getting there?"

"In these things?"

Elsie looked up at Anna and the women simultaneously said aloud, "taxi!" And giggled at their thinking alike.

Elsie requested a ride via her mytaxi app, said goodbye to Anna and put Igor in his cage before slipping into her trench coat and grabbing her clutch and the decoratively wrapped biscuit tin that she had prepared as a gift for the grooms. She had no sooner locked the front door than the taxi pulled up.

Across town, Charles Carson was getting dressed to attend the first anniversary brunch of his downstairs neighbours, Thomas Barrow and Simon Bricker.

Charles's palsy was not cooperating this morning and the whole process of tying his shoes and buttoning his shirt was taking longer than he had bargained for. He had opted to pair his tailored navy suit with the new pink hound's tooth shirt. Those new button holes along the front seemed especially tight – he hadn't tried this shirt on at the shop - and try as he might, a few buttons toward the bottom were just plain giving him trouble. Although it might be a bit on the warm side inside the restaurant with one of the jumper vests on as well, Charles realized that wearing one could mean he needn't fiddle with the most troublesome buttons anymore and no one, save for him, would be the wiser.

So Charles returned to the walk-in closet and grabbed the new fuscia vest from one of his jumper drawers and slipped it over his head. Modeling in front of the floor length mirror, Charles could already tell his button-hiding plan would work fine. He fiddled with the collar, experimenting with leaving the points tucked in the vest or out; he hadn't discussed this detail with John Bates. Eventually he settled on leaving them out. Next, Charles slipped on his suit coat. He liked what he saw of himself. He stood up straighter, taller, exuding confidence when dressed well and he certainly was this morning, from head to toe. Finally, Charles went to put on his watch and noticed the time, realizing much to his consternation that he would be late.

Muttering to himself about being tardy, Charles put Lady in the kennel and stepped into the butler's pantry for his umbrella. He would need it for the four blocks to the restaurant, Cosimo de Medici, and back.

Existing the lift in the lobby of the South Bank Tower, Charles exchanged greetings with Ravi who was on duty today and hustled on his way for the short walk to the restaurant.

When he arrived there, Oliver was at the host's desk and while exchanging pleasantries, Charles explained he was here for the party. Oliver directed Charles to the back of the restaurant where his cohort Bessie was stationed to further help the party guests.

Cosimo had purchased an older building behind the restaurant some 18 months ago, demo'd the old building and enclosed the space on three sides with brick and glass walls. A high, retractable awning covered the entire area; in the warmer months it could open up to the stars but regardless of the season was a wonderful supplemental banquet space that greatly improved the restaurant's capacity.

"Hi Bessie, how are you today?"

"Very well, Mr. Carson! So nice to see you, I saw your name on your place card. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you've arrived solo today, yes?"

"I'm afraid you are correct, Bessie," Charles showing the young woman a bit of disappointment. "No one on my arm to lend me a touch of class."

"Mr. Carson, you're always classy. And whilst I don't have anything for your arm today, I do have a little something I'm supposed to put on your lapel." Gesturing to the large arrangement of petite roses in a range of colors at the end of the table, Bessie asked, "Care to pick your color, Mr. Carson?"

"What's this?" Charles asked in confusion.

"Oh, just a little boutonniere, a request/ gift from your hosts. Which one do you think?"

Charles studied the wide selection narrowing it down to lavender or yellow and asking Bessie to make the final selection.

Grabbing one lavender flower out of the bunch, Bessie offered to clip it to his lapel which Charles graciously accepted along with his place card that explained he would be at table 5. Bessie then directed Charles into the room, pointing out the general direction of his table.

Charles stepped into the room, it was airy and pleasantly bright, a nice change from outdoors. In addition to a photographer and waitstaff weaving in the crowd serving Mimosas and canapés, Charles noticed there were LOTS of flowers. Charles grabbed a Mimosa when offered one. He was scanning the room for faces he might recognize; at first glance there were not many at all. He presumed that meant he'd be seated with others from the building. He saw two across the way – Mrs. Wigan was speaking with Miss Denker who had spotted Charles and raised her glass and smiled in his direction. Momentarily, the Talbot family came over to say hello, little George looking very handsome in his navy knee socks, shorts, burnt orange long sleeve jumper, dress shirt and navy bow tie. He also had a yellow rose boutonniere on, but his father had none. After a quick hello, Matthew Talbot excused himself to get in line at the bar for other drinks.

Just then, from the end of the room where the head table was set up, Simon Bricker spoke into a microphone, his voice projected around the room by speakers. "Dear guests, welcome. Thomas and I are honored to have you all join us today in celebration of our first anniversary. Before we sit down to eat, we want to acknowledge the role that you all have played in our togetherness and happiness. We see some of you very frequently, and yet none of you enough. Your love and support are so very appreciated."

Master George could not see from his low height at the back of the room and begged his mother to lift him up. When she declined his request, Charles offered to hoist him up and that made George quite happy. Resting George's behind on his right forearm, Charles held the lad so he could see.

"Thomas and I met, four years ago when we both attended the wedding of a mutual friend, Thomas's best man last year, Jimmy Kent," Charles's ears perked up and he strained to see better. He had no idea of the connection between the two.

"It was a magical moment that forever changed our lives, though it almost didn't happen, Thomas's being the introverted homebody that he is. Thomas and I are hoping to pay it forward so if you arrived today and were given a boutonniere, know the significance is that we know you to be single and roses are the floral symbol of love! Unattached, unmarried, whatever the case may be, we hope the boutinneres – although there are a lot of them here today - will expedite the process of others finding love in the room by being clued into your status as available! Enjoy, have fun with it!"

George was getting a bit restless and started to talk to his friend Mr. Carson who gently shushed him and encouraged him to listen.

Thomas took the microphone. "Yes, do have fun with it, who knows where it might lead. In addition to the love that brought us both here today, Simon and I wish to thank three very special people who played special roles in our ceremony last year. Simon has already acknowledged my dear friend Jimmy. We worked together eons ago and misunderstood one another early on but overcame our difficulties and though distance separates us today, we have one another in our hearts, always. Julian, Julian is the balding chap over here to Simon's left in the double-breasted suit. Julian was Simon's best man, is a screenwriter and he wrote both our vows! We are forever grateful, Julian. And finally, a very dear woman who has been my therapist since I was a young, messed up lad in my 20s and has helped me grow and become the man I am today, warts and all. She means so much to me that as we were preparing for the wedding last year, we asked her to officiate the ceremony itself. She did a most wonderful job and didn't need help with the words like we did! But we so love what she had to say, have tried to live up to them every day together, and, well, one of you was kind enough to record the ceremony on your phone last year. Let's take a look at the moment that Simon and I were married, by Ms. Elsie Hughes."

Charles nearly dropped the lad at the mention of her name. When George started to speak again, Charles held his left forefinger up to his own lips signaling George to be quiet and he himself strained to see the flatscreen on which the image of Thomas Barrow and Simon Bricker flanking Elsie Hughes appeared. She had worn a lovely dark pink low cut dress and bright blue long jacket that looked to be silk. It wasn't the same shade of blue as the outdoor wear he'd seen her in previously, yet equally attractive on her. No, it was more attractive. Definitely more attractive.

As her recorded image came to life, that voice that had charmed him already three times in the last almost month was a little shaky at first – nerves – but quickly gained strength, volume and confidence. The words themselves were entirely lost on him as he watched her look down at notecards in her hands, look up to the grooms, and the small crowd gathered in front of her. She smiled joyously as that crowd responded to what appeared to be a joke or lighthearted comment, and she smiled again, quite sincerely as the two men closed the gap between them and kissed on the screen. At that, the crowd in the room now awakened with clapping and cheering, whistles and more. And the screen froze.

It was Thomas Barrow speaking again, "Dear guests, it's official. We've been married a year. Thank you for joining us to celebrate. Now, please, take your seats and enjoy brunch!"

As most in the crowd began to make their way to their respective tables, Charles Carson with George Talbot still in his arms remained stationary though straining to catch a glimpse of Elsie Hughes amongst the celebrants.

George spoke up to get Carson's attention, "C'mon, Mr. Carson. I'm hungry!"

"Oh, yes, right George," and Charles let the lad slide down his right side 'til his feet hit the floor. When George grabbed his hand to pull him in the direction of his parents who were in the process of sitting down at one of the round tables, Charles followed him, though kept an eye over his shoulder still in an attempt to see Elsie Hughes.

It wasn't until he settled in his seat, facing the front of the room and flanked by George Talbot on his right, Miss Denker on his left, that he saw Elsie Hughes, walking around the far side of the head table to take her own seat at one end, beside Jimmy Kent. Even from this far away, Elsie took Charles's breath away. She looked trim, athletic, sophisticated, happy and just plain gorgeous.

As the plates of food were passed family style and fellow guests, including George, attempted to engage him in conversation, Charles found himself lost trying to focus on Elsie. He wondered what they were speaking of up at the head table that made her toss her head back in laughter. He watched her cut her food with her knife, elegantly lifting the fork up to her mouth, alternating that with her Champagne flute. He was simply transfixed by her and poor company for his neighbours at table 5.

George Talbot was similarly transfixed by the chocolate fountain that the staff had just started, amongst a sea of fresh fruit, biscuits and cupcakes on the dessert table near their end of the room. So much that his mother reminded him more than once, "No dessert until you finish more eggs and bacon."

Plates cleared from the head table, Charles watched as Elsie seemed to excuse herself, stood up and grabbed her clutch and started to make her way to the side of the room where the entrance was. Another guest at one of the other nearby tables stopped her. Elsie stood there for a short while engaging in conversation and again there appeared to be some laughter amongst them at that table of guests. Moments later, she scooted out of the room, presumably to use the loo.

When she reappeared, Elsie headed straight to the dessert table, affording Charles for the first time today an unobstructed view of her. Her hair had a beautiful shine, the updo looked a little sassy, her shoes simply screamed joy – and made her calves look out of this world sexy. The dress was sophisticated and spring-y. Charles most definitely enjoyed watching her from behind as she perused and made her dessert selection, and he enjoyed that she didn't know she was being watched. She skirted past their table without seeing Charles but went straight to the bar. Charles excused himself, feeling he could wait no longer to say hello.

He stood up, pushed his chair in and headed toward the bar. His fellow guests at table 5 were a) oblivious (George and Matthew), b) disappointed (Miss Denker and Mrs. Wigan), c) intrigued and keeping a watchful eye on him (Mary).

Charles approached Elsie who was leaning over the bar, speaking with the bartender.

Clearing his throat and gathering his strength, Charles started out the simplest way he knew, "Ms. Hughes."

Elsie turned, shocked to see the handsome and smiling, salt-and-pepper haired near-stranger standing in front of her, "Mr. Carson!" How she managed to sound both breathless and excited at the same time was beyond the both of them. Regardless, it was obvious that Elsie was happy to see him again.

"May I buy you a drink?"

Elsie giggled. "You're woefully out of practice, Mr. Carson. That's a terrible pick up line, and besides that, it's an open bar."

Charles instinctively, covered his mouth with his left hand as if he'd misspoken. Dropping the hand once again, he gestured at the boutonniere, "You caught me, Ms. Hughes. I am woefully out of practice, but my friends all keep trying to get me back in the game." He paused, looked at her intently and smiled again while cocking his head slightly to the right. "Forgive me for trying another cliché, but you look simply gorgeous."

Elsie blushed momentarily and initially began to laugh off the compliment by admitting, "Well, you have seen me pretty low, wiping my dog's wet bits with my headband. Anything's got to be better than that!"

At that, Charles reached for her forearm gently, "Seriously, you look amazing. There isn't another woman in this whole room who even comes close in my book."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson."

"You're welcome, I mean it. And, I didn't know you knew Thomas, heck, I didn't know you're a therapist, let alone that you perform weddings! I wasn't at the wedding; my best friend's mother was celebrating her 85th birthday the same day and I had to attend that." Looking down in a bit of embarrassment, Charles continued, "And I didn't hear half of what you said in the recording. I was so surprised – no delighted – to hear Thomas say your name in the preamble that I honestly lost track of what was said thereafter."

"That's very kind, Mr. Carson. How is it that you know Thomas, and/or Simon?"

"Oh, we live in the same building," Charles gestured over to the South Bank Tower, "over yonder."

"Yes, I know it. That's where the ceremony was last year. Gorgeous space where they had it, then again, the boys brought in more white flowers than you'd see at four weddings and a funeral combined!" Elsie joked.

"Ah, yes, I remember seeing the delivery trucks and drivers headed up to the Winter Garden."

"Winter Garden, yes, that was it. Gorgeous."

"My wife designed the space. Originally."

"Oh," Elsie suddenly was despondent at the mention of his wife.

Realizing he'd likely just made another faux pas in the courting world, Charles clarified, "She died."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Just then young George Talbot came bounding up to them, pulling on Charles's jacket to get his attention. "Mr. Carson! Mr. Carson! Mummy says I can have dessert now! Will you go up with me?"

"George, one moment please. Let me introduce you to my friend, Ms. Hughes, Elsie," Charles smiled broadly. It felt good to say her name and she evidently liked hearing it for she returned his smile without a moment's hesitation.

"Hi. We look like a cluster of Easter eggs together! Mr. Carson, can we get dessert?"

"May we get dessert, George, may we get dessert."

"Yeah, that's what I just asked you." Charles rolled his eyes at the lad's inadvertent cheek.

"Why don't you and Mr. Carson fix your dessert plates, and I'll come join you if there's room at your table and eat mine too?"

"Okay!"

"Hold on George, just a moment." Turning to Elsie, Charles continued, "I have to warn you, George's parents are very protective of me and they and a couple other neighbours are who I've been sitting with. One of them wants to date me, maybe both."

"Are they gay?"

"What?"

"You're at a gay wedding, the grooms are trying to orchestrate matches."

"Em, no." It's those two women over, over at table 5."

Elsie looked over sizing up all the adults. "Not to worry. Just tell me, what was your wife's name? How many kids? What do you do for a living and to what name do you answer?"

Charles looked confused, but knew he needed to be quick for George was starting to pull at his arm again. "Alice; no kids; retired historical preservation architect; and lots of names, mainly Charles."

"Okay, meet you over at the table," Elsie winked at him, quietly repeating the high level information he'd shared.

As Charles followed George to the dessert table, he kept looking over his shoulder, back at Elsie who smiled at him. She herself was dumbfounded to run into this man again. She knew from before that he was kind, generous and playful. And today she confirmed he was single and, importantly, straight. The universe had been speaking to her the last few weeks about this man, and today by bringing them both here, it was screaming at her.

Drink and dessert in hand, Elsie made her way over to table 5 as soon as she had seen Charles and George heading there themselves. Placing her plate down on the table, Elsie looked at the others and said, "Hi, I'm Elsie and I understand you all are Charlie's neighbours. I'm sorry, I don't believe we met last year at the wedding but I presume you were there. Didn't the Winter Garden just look amazing with all the flowers Thomas and Simon brought in, on top of the space Alice had designed?"

Charles was amazed and delighted, in three sentences, she had them all back on their heels, before they could interject word one. And she had decided to call him Charlie.

As the festivities continued, guests began to peel off and head home, including the other residents of the South Bank Tower. As the room emptied, Elsie in her sleeveless dress began to feel chilled and said so. "Here, let me give you this." Charles stood up and took off his jacket, offering to drape it over Elsie's shoulders. She accepted it gratefully for the warmth but enjoyed it all the more with the colourful and loud lining inside which she commented on, and the masculine scent of Charlie that surrounded her which she did not comment on.

"Elsie, it looks like this party is coming to an end and I really should be getting home to walk Lady as well. But I have to be honest, I've had a wonderful time in your midst and don't want to say goodbye. And I certainly don't want to have to rely on chance to bring us together once again. If I may, I'd like to give you my number."

Reaching into her clutch, Elsie unlocked her phone and handed it to him, "Please do type in your number, Charlie. Oh, I'm sorry, you said you mainly answer to Charles, but that day in the park you struck me as a Charlie."

Keying in the number, he clarified with a smile, "I like it. Charlie. And I like you, Elsie. Now, how are you planning to get home?"

"Oh, Charlie, we call heels like these taxi shoes. Would you please call me one?"


	13. Chapter 13: Yappy Hour

A/N: Continuing on with my tendency toward humor coupled with IRL accuracy/ descriptiveness, Charles and Elsie have their first date at a place that modern Charlie would approve of. However, the London outlet I don't believe is actually a retail outlet, just a distributor. Oh well, the address came up. And more history woven in. Enjoy! And please, take a moment to share your thoughts as you finish this. The feedback is as energizing as chocolate cake!

CECECECECECECECECECECECECEC

Friday, 16 March 2018

His mind flashed back to their parting last Sunday; he had held the taxi door for her as she climbed in, her dress and trench coat riding up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the skin above her left knee and a good view of the well-toned muscles stretching down to her ankle and that glittery ultra-feminine heel below that. As the taxi pulled away, there were sheepish smiles and waves from the both of them. He walked home with a newfound spring in his step.

Charles had no sooner returned to his flat when his phone rang with a call from Sybil and family. He switched to his tablet when they opted to FaceTime and was caught offguard when the attention quickly centered on his attire, consensus among those in Boston being that he was looking especially handsome today. Well, truthfully, Sybbie had said he looked "pretty" and thus a reddening of his face and vocabulary lesson ensued.

Whilst they all were chatting, a text came in: _Enough chance encounters; meet for tea (coffee?) this week?- Elsie_

He did the best he could to hide his delight but Sybil, as perceptive as her mother, picked up the change in him. But since she couldn't quite finger it, she said nothing, just happy to see her beloved, honorary uncle exhibiting a bit more of the glee that had charmed her first as a child and a generation later secured him as the most obvious choice of Godfather when Sybbie had been born.

 _Wonderful, let me know when,_ was the reply he had typed back after the FaceTime had concluded. As Sunday wore on, he kept looking down at his phone, hopeful for Elsie to close the loop. The more time passed, the more he scrutinized his five word reply – was there something inadvertently offputting in his message? Recognizing his decades out of the dating scene, he also wondered if there was something else he should do, differently, better? In the end, he called Isobel asking for her advice.

Isobel found it sweet that Charles would turn to her for such counsel. Unfortunately, she was busy preparing dinner for herself and Richard when Charles called. So she asked a few questions and in the end, built off of his mention that this woman, Elsie, was obviously a working professional and probably had many commitments to work around in her diary. Elsie would get back to him, be patient, was her conclusion and advise.

In fact, Elsie had needed to tend to an unexpected issue on Sunday after the brunch. She had a call from Becky's home that she'd had a seizure of some sort, a regrettable and frightening recent development in Becky's complicated health history, and the reason she now had Violet. Becky had been transported to the hospital and kept overnight for observation throwing Elsie's Sunday evening and Monday morning into disarray, requiring multiple canceled appointments. By the time Becky was discharged on Monday with a new medication, Elsie was frazzled and concerned. She took the rest of the day off, accompanied Becky home and stayed put to keep a close eye on her into the evening. She phoned and emailed clients from Becky's to fit them in, guarding a couple chunks of time to come back to Becky's and take her to a follow up doctor's appointment on Thursday.

In all the added commotion, the text conversation with Charlie had slipped her mind and when she finally remembered Monday evening at home, she was quick to send him a message back.

 _C - Feel SOOOO badly. Becky emergency yesterday into today. Better now. Assuming things stay calm, plan for Friday. Please, pick a spot. Lambeth to Bermondsey should work for us both? Near a Tube Station. LMK. - E_

He was relieved and appreciated her explanation when it came in at last. And then he proceeded to overanalyze the options. Finally, at 10 pm he texted back, _Julius Meinl 11 Weston Street. Friday 2:15, if things stay calm for you._

In the end, things had stayed calm, because Elsie confirmed this morning with another text, _Look forward to seeing you, 2:15. Meinl's new for me._

2:10 pm

Charles arrived at Meinl's. He loved most everything about this Viennese import. The ambience and service replicated the city's famed KaffeeHaus experience he had been introduced to in his 20s. And the puddings; they were not just tasty but truly decadent. He strolled into the back room that had the gas fireplace. He found the added warmth and furniture particularly cozy and a little quieter, perfect for chatting. As he looked around he could see there were a few others sprinkled throughout the space but plenty of room for Elsie and him to find a quiet table unto themselves.

He was minutes away from seeing her again, had been looking forward to this moment all week, and yet he was nervous. Of course he was nervous, how long had it been since he'd had a first date? Half his lifetime ago. How should he greet her? Handshake? Kiss on the cheek? Kiss on both cheeks? Oh the social protocols were conveniently unclear! The scarf around his neck was suddenly feeling extra tight and warm and he thought it best to return to the front room and the entrance in order to greet her.

Coming from that back room, he saw her tucking into an alcove clearly looking for him. She wore black knee high boots, a ¾ length off-white down zip up jacket, and adorable little fuchsia sort of woolen skull cap with two matching pompons tethered to its top; as she and/or her head spun around, so did the pompons. And then she saw him walking toward her, and she smiled and made her way out of the alcove. They were steps away from one another and the display case when he spoke, "Hello, Elsie. How are you?"

Switching her briefcase from her right hand to her left, Elsie reached out in greeting, not a handshake per se but did take his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "Oh Charlie, I thought I'd never make it to this day. It's been quite the week."

Already their hands had separated yet he continued speaking, "Well, I'm glad you're here, I'm glad we're here. There's a nice room in back with some tables open, shall we order and then to take a seat?"

"Sure, that sounds lovely. I take it you've been here before. What do you recommend?"

Chuckling and patting his stomach, he replied, "I'm afraid too many things. Today, however, I think it's going to be something fruity."

Elsie turned to read the menu board and then stepped closer to the display case to study the puddings more closely. She had put her briefcase and purse down and slipped out of her jacket which she now held in front of her draped over her arms. Today, she wore an everyday, long sleeve grey Ponte knit dress with a darker grey long waistcoat over it. She stepped even closer to the case and bent to see what was on the lower shelf. She was focused on the chocolaty looking pudding in the back; he was focused on her bottom.

"Any questions?" The young clerk behind the counter asked in a friendly voice. Elsie stood to address him, and Charles began to feel his equilibrium return.

"Yes, please, what's that on the bottom, your far right?" Oh God, she even said the word 'bottom.' Charles closed his eyes to focus and barely heard the clerk describing the Sachertorte, its dense chocolate cake, thin top layer of apricot jam all wrapped in dark chocolate icing and then served with whipped crème. Elsie's voice brought him back, "Oh, I shouldn't but I will try that, no whipped crème though, and a pot of mint tea, please."

"And for you, sir?"

Charles had just taken a deep breath and neither the clerk nor Elsie had realized how far away he'd been with his thoughts for a moment. "Ah, the Apfelstrudel, warmed please, a la mode and a Melange. These will be together."

All stepped toward the register where the clerk tallied the check, Charles paid and was handed his change and a number for the table. As he turned toward Elsie, returning his wallet to his breast pocket he realized she was weighted down with her belongings. Holding the number placard out in her direction, he said, "Here, you take this, and let me take your coat and briefcase."

"Be my guest, Charlie! The briefcase is heavy. I'm afraid I have a few things I need to get through ideally tonight, or sometime over the weekend."

"Oh my, you must work in a quarry! It is heavy."

"Shall we head to the back?" He gestured for her to lead the way.

They settled quite near the fireplace into a round table for two with highbacked armchairs in dark red leather. Elsie marveled at the room's coziness; it looked more like a library with shelves of books than a simple café. "Have you ever been to Vienna, Elsie?"

"No, I never have."

"The Viennese are known not just for their coffee, but also their service _of_ the coffee. This is not quite the way it used to be but still a cut above. I can't wait for you to see it."

And almost on cue, the waiter arrived at their table, first setting down their puddings, followed by the flatware wrapped in paper napkins, and then their beverages, each on it's own oval shaped metallic silver tray complete with cup, saucer, demitasse spoon, sugar cube packet, biscuit, and glass of still water. Additionally, Elsie's tray held a small pitcher of milk and of course a teapot and timer that still had two minutes to go. As the waiter retreated, Elsie expressed the specialness of the experience, "Well, would you look at all this? Far beyond a needlessly take-away cup with plastic lid and scone in a bag!"

"Indeed, it's one of the reasons why I love this place, though I do wish they'd retire their racist logo. It's a relic of an earlier time."

At that Elsie looked closer at the logo printed on the napkin and, by way of raising her eyebrows, agreed.

Charles continued, "Granted, the trays are simply stainless steel this day and age, but they certainly are a genuine homage to the silver trays that were used in the past. Can you imagine all the polishing that would be required in a café as busy as this one? I mean, I love to polish the silver for family gatherings and such, in fact, it has been my job for more years of holidays than I can remember, but on a daily basis?"

"Anyway, the puddings, the Viennese are also known for their puddings." Charles waggled his eyebrows playfully. "I hope you enjoy the Sachertorte. Cheers!"

"Cheers, Charlie. You're a gentleman and a scholar!" Elsie unwrapped her knife and fork and took a first bite, declaring it scrumptious and the best thing she'd tasted all week – since the anniversary brunch last Sunday.

Charles knew there was conversation to be had and saw his opening. "You said you've had quite a week, Elsie. Tell me about it?" She forked another bite of torte and then scooted back in her chair, bringing her cup of tea with her, held between her two hands.

"You sound like me, at the start of a client session." She sighed and then proceeded to begin to tell him about her woeful week, weaving in relevant details of her and Becky's backstory. How on Sunday early evening, Becky had a seizure, the latest complication in Becky's troubled medical history. How a farm outside Argyll had been their birthplace, Elsie the eldest followed just over seven years later by twins, a boy and a girl.

When her mother was pregnant, the doctor had begun to refer to the babies as baby A and baby B. Coincidentally, the names her parents had chosen for the twins also began with A and B, Aaron and Becky.

Aaron just dwarfed Becky, even in the womb, "stealing" away more than his fair share of nourishment, leaving Becky to suffer. It was the root of her life-long disabilities. But Aaron was a sweetheart and doted on his twin sister all throughout childhood and adolescence. With dreams of going to University, Aaron left home after high school and took a well-paying but physically difficult job in forestry, outside Lockerbie. Tragically, he was among the 11 people on the ground who were killed on that tragic night in December 1988 when Pan Am flight 103 crashed to the ground after a bomb had been detonated on board.

Aaron's death was total devastation for the entire family, especially their mother who died of a broken heart less than a year later. How both deaths had prompted Elsie, who had previously only worked in factories or as a housekeeper near Argyll, to pick up Aaron's dream and fulfill it herself.

She began taking night classes and after a year moved to London to enroll at Goldsmiths, University of London where she continued to clean houses and let the smallest room in a coach house owned, coincidentally, by the Dean of Admissions at Goldsmiths, Dr. Harold Levinson and his wife Martha Levinson. Her first roommates in the house were Beryl (nee Patmore) Mason and Phyllis Baxter, two of her closest friends still to this day.

Beryl was already dating Bill Mason but left University prior to graduating thanks to becoming pregnant. Phyllis finished and she and her husband are today themselves on faculty at the University.

Martha, who was a professional therapist, counseled Elsie for many years and her late husband was a second father to Elsie. When Harold died, he left money in his will to Elsie and explicit instructions that she continue her education to advance beyond the government social worker position in which she'd started her professional career.

In time, as his own health deteriorated, her father Alban and Becky moved to London and into Martha's home, not just the coach house, but the main house as did Elsie. And, after Alban died, Elsie moved out in time but Becky had remained there with Martha until just two years ago when Becky had her first seizure, requiring more care than Martha, who by then had a part time caretaker herself, could deliver. Martha had to move into an assisted living center, Elsie being her executor, and Becky lived in a group home with five other women and a live-in caretaker.

"Oh, and in my spare time, I'm a licensed family therapist and work with clients, individuals, couples and families, and Thursday evenings, I have a group session."

She looked over at Charles who had been following all of this closely. "You're a good listener, Charlie. Ever think of being a therapist?" She leaned forward and poured herself more tea.

"Thank you, but no. So that's how you know Thomas Barrow."

"Yes, I have his written permission to share his story with others. I have worked with him for 14, 15 years. He was one of my first clients. He had tried to commit suicide in his early 20s, upset by his parents' disowning him for being gay."

"Wow, quite a life story, Elsie. The business of life is the acquisition of memories and you have generously shared many of them with me this afternoon," he smiled.

"Well, that's not the goriest of the gory details, but enough to have made some run for the hills." And then she all of a sudden scooted out of her chair, took off the down waistcoat, and fanned her face explaining. "As if all that isn't good enough, I'm also dealing with hot flashes." Elsie reached down and took her first sip of the still water, downing the whole glass.

Looking at her compassionately, he asked, "Would you like some more?"

"Yes, please." Charles stood up and went back to the counter, returning with a chilled liter bottle. As he went to open the cap, Elsie stopped him, taking the bottle by the neck and holding it up against the back of her own. "Charlie, I'm so sorry."

"No, no, no need to apologize," he replied, awkwardly. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable if we moved away from the fire?"

"Yes, that's probably a good idea. She began to move her coat and belongings to the next table and Charles moved their trays and plates, his empty, hers with perhaps 3-4 bites of Sachertorte left on it.

As they sat down at the second table, Elsie cocked her head to one side and smiled. "But you're still here, I see. I'm impressed." She took another sip of tea, "But I must have made you a little nervous, I noticed your hand right hand has been shaking, though you've been trying to hide it."

Beautiful, smart, and perceptive, Charles thought. He held up his hand confirming the shaking. "Yes, a genetic palsy that my father and granddad had. Like in their cases, it's come on in recent years, accelerated my retirement, or semi-retirement. I'll still take on a special project now and then, but I'm very selective because I can be and the palsy flares up when I'm stressed. Only thing that seems to work is acupuncture."

"Oh?"

"I actually have an appointment after this, the practitioner I see had originally treated Alice. Now I'm her patient for this…and something else." Charles wasn't about to admit more, regardless of how open Elsie was being with him.

"So, what about Alice? What about you? I know you've no children. But you mentioned polishing the silver for family gatherings. Who's the family you're speaking of?"

"Yes, I suppose it is my turn. Well, it's all woven together for me as well. The family isn't family by blood. My best friend, Robert Grantham, is like a brother to me. We met at University, he studied Landscape Architecture, I studied straight Architecture and became a historical preservation specialist. The Granthams, now four generations – Robert's mother, wife, sister, two daughters, their husbands and children are the family I'm speaking of." Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he scrolled to a photo of Sybbie sitting on his knee last summer and held it up for her to see. This munchkin is Sybbie and she's actually my Goddaughter."

"She's adorable."

"Indeed and a personality to match. Anyway, Robert and I were accepted at the Royal College of Art, here in London, I was from Yorkshire, he from Hampshire, and we roomed together for four years and then went our separate ways for study abroad programs during graduate school. Whilst he was in Versailles he met Cora, who's American and was there to study art history and they married shortly after.

I stayed on the continent for a while in Florence and elsewhere and then Robert and Cora hired me, to work on architectural preservation of the family homestead, an old Abbey in Hampshire that had gone through a couple generations of disrepair. While I was working on the structure, they hired a young, beautiful interior designer to work on the interiors."

"Alice."

"Yes, Alice. There was really not much happening in the nearby village where we were staying and so we couldn't help but hang out together. And we fell in love and married. Well, it would have been the summer after you arrived in London."

Charles looked down at his hand now, unable to maintain steady eye contact as he got to this next part. "We never had children. Alice had debilitating endometriosis. It resulted in a lot of pain, particularly during her monthlies and, uh, when she reached menopause, she needed to have surgery. And the bastard botched it. Botched it badly and she almost died." By now, Charles was blinking back tears. "We took the doctor to court and with the help of a talented young solicitor, Matthew Talbot, we won. Well, we won the case."

"Matthew Talbot, who'd been at your table last Sunday, yes?"

"Exactly. It was one of his first cases and he earned a fair sum and a healthy promotion." Charles proceeded to be fingering the crumbs on the table, pushing them around. "We found another surgeon who fixed Alice up but discovered in the process she had advanced uterine cancer. She died, August of 2014, 2.5 weeks before my 58th birthday."

At that, Elsie reached out and covered, Charles's hand. "Charlie, I'm so sorry, thank you for sharing."

He squeezed her hand in return, and nodded his head in remembrance. He took a deep breath and continued, "Alice was the love of my life, she was witty, a delightful hostess, and so talented in her craft. She designed the Winter Garden at our building, many of the flats' interiors including the whole of our own, my own. And you may know both our work, to a degree, if you watched DOWNTON ABBEY on ITV; Highclere Castle is that Grantham ancestral home I mentioned.

"Well, knock me down with a feather!"

Charles got a kick out of Elsie's animated response.

"Recreating the interiors for the studio sets was Alice's last professional project."

"Incredible. I'm sitting here with a celebrity!"

Charles laughed heartily at that, "Well, not quite, but it was a nice – to borrow your word – feather, for the both of us at the end of our careers." Charles looked at Elsie intently all of a sudden, "Elsie, you're quickly helping me realize something."

"Oh, what's that?"

"That there's still a life for me to live. I've enjoyed this afternoon, and our previous chance meetings immensely. But I'm afraid, I'm afraid I need to be leaving soon for that acupuncture appointment I mentioned earlier, though I'd like to ask you two final questions."

"I'm listening."

"First, are you going to eat that?" he pointed down to the remaining Sachertorte.

"No, it's wonderful and all yours," laughing, she slid the plate over to him on the table.

Charles smiled, and then asked, "May I see you again?"

Nibbling on her bottom lip for the first time all afternoon, Elsie looked into his deep brown eyes and asked in reply, "How's your Sunday diary, Mr. Carson?"


	14. Chapter 14: -Date- Number Two

A/N: Moving things along, while adding a bit more backstory. Please, let me know how I'm doing. Your reviews are most welcome and appreciated!

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Sunday, 18 March 2018

11:30 am

With this weekend finding London still in the grips of its third winter of 2017-18, and especially after their cozy hour plus together at Meinl's on Friday, the last thing that Charles expected Elsie to suggest for them today was a long walk outdoors. By long, she made it clear it was her intent for it to be hours outdoors, regardless of the cold. So, due to his being smitten with the Scottish lass, here he was standing outside the main entrance of the Southwark Underground Station waiting for her. Freezing his bullocks off.

She had advised him to wear comfortable walking shoes in light of the distance she intended for them to cover and he opted for layers, including gloves and a woolen hat in light of the wind chill. Truthfully, he expected he would be fine once they were moving but this standing around business was getting the better of him and "the boys." So he was extra grateful when he turned around and saw Elsie approaching with Igor.

She was wearing the same cute, bright outfit he remembered from their meeting a few weeks ago at Greenwich Park though this time she too wore a hat rather than the headband that had simply covered her ears and forehead – originally - on that fateful day. Pausing at the pedestrian light on the other side of Blackfriars Road, Elsie spotted him as well, waved and smiled. She was also carrying the ball launcher again. As Charles returned the smile, he was feeling warmer already.

Now in front of the station herself, Elsie guided Igor over to Charles. "Igor, you remember Mr. Carson…Charlie." At that, her smile seemed to gain extra wattage. "Hi, Charlie." She approached closer still and surprised him – no, delighted him – with a quick peck on the cheek. "Oh dear, your face is so cold! I'm sorry if we've kept you waiting; hard to predict the traffic lights and all. How are you?"

"Hi Elsie. I am well, thank you, but yes, a bit nippy out here today." As Elsie stepped away, Igor had stepped in and sniffed Charles's crotch and then up higher toward his stomach. He was aware of the dog's exploring him, but with Elsie focused on Charles's eyes, she was oblivious. He reached down with both hands and guided the dog's head toward his hip, chuckling "Hello, Igor!" As he looked down then to give the dog some of his attention, Elsie asked about Shrimpie. "No, today sounded well beyond her range, she's home, alone."

"Oh, too bad. I hope to see her again."

"And I'm certain you will. But where are we off to now? And forgive me, but why the bloody hell are we out in weather like this?" There was no anger or cynicism in his voice, just friendly skepticism.

"We are out today because I take a long walk every weekend in preparation for a fundraiser walk I do every year in mid-May and with all the other responsibilities I'm juggling with my practice, my home, Martha and Becky, this is the only chance I had to fit you in without too much time passing. Two for one you could say. As far as where we're going, I thought we'd head to Battersea Park."

"Battersea! Well, that is a good – "

"Three plus miles, by hook or by crook, each way. Are you up for it?"

"Sure."

"Well, let's get going then, get your engine warmed up! C'mon Igor," she tugged at the dog's leash and resumed her steps. "I try to keep a fairly quick pace, Mr. Carson, ensures I get a workout and it helps tire Igor out. I'd like to stay away from the Thames, keep a little distance between us and any brave tourists out today and, of course, the cold wind coming off the water." With his long strides, he had caught up to her and they were walking side by side, Elsie being dragged a bit by Igor.

"So, Battersea today, was it three weeks ago we met at Greenwich Park, Elsie?"

"Aye, and we walked to Crystal Palace Park last Saturday."

"I haven't been there in years! Tend to go north myself, old habits. Alice and I lived in Hampstead previously. Hampstead Heath is a wonderful park, dense with trees and hills. Have you been there?"

"No, I've not. Always lived south, ever since I enrolled all those years ago at Goldsmiths."

"We should go sometime – when it's warmer!" Charles clarified as he wiped his runny nose.

Elsie noticed this as she looked over at him, "You doing okay, Charlie?"

He looked her in the eye, "Seldom better."

As Charles and Elsie were distracted momentarily by one another, Igor was spooked by a bicyclist that approached them from behind calling out in alert, "On your right!" As the rider whizzed by them, Igor began barking and attempted to run after the bicycle, thinking it was a game. He yanked at the leash hard enough to nearly tumble Elsie despite her already forward momentum.

"Igor!" She yelled, but still the dog pulled.

Charles instinctively stepped in, grabbing ahold of the leash as well and calling out the dog's name. This time, the dog eased up instantly, turning his head this way and that in a sign of submission.

"See, why does he mind you and not me?"

"Probably my size and deep voice." Elsie thought to herself, yeah, maybe Igor likes your size and voice as much as I do.

She heard that voice again, grabbing her attention back. "It's not as quiet out here as I thought it would be. If he gets excited by that chap, maybe I should take his leash?"

"Be my guest. He thinks everything is either a toy or out to get us. I didn't socialize him as well as I should have when he was a pup." Elsie handed over the leash to Charles.

"Well, how could you, with everything you've got going on? You're quite the caretaker, Elsie." They had walked a few more paces before Charles asked, "Elsie, why do you have Igor? He seems like he's quite the irritation to you.

"Because in fact he is!" Waving her arm and wrist dismissively in the dog's direction, she scoffed then continued, "Ah, there are two reasons I got Igor eight months ago now. After Becky had a second seizure a little over a year ago, her doctor, Dr. Clarkson, suggested it would be wise to get her a service dog. Becky was never around dogs much and didn't like bigger ones so it was a hard sell, even after I'd put the deposit down on Violet. She'd been specially trained for Becky's condition and that training wasn't cheap, though I suspect I got a little bit of a deal as the Masons connected me with the breeder/ trainer. Beryl heard all of Becky's protests including the argument, 'I'll only get a dog if Elsie gets a dog.' Unfortunately for me, Beryl and Bill – and others – were already uncomfortable with me walking home Thursday nights, alone in the dark after group sessions which I had only started last summer. Igor was therefore a compromise all the way around."

"So, health and safety, not companionship."

"In so many words, yes."

"That's too bad, I mean, even with Lady as deaf and blind as she is and all the care she requires, it is nice to have her around, someone to talk to, someone to take care of." Elsie could see that he meant it and said as much. She was quickly growing fond of Charles's companionship as well.

They continued their walk to Battersea Park, chatting about this and that, still getting to know one another. When at last they arrived at Battersea, Charles was anxious to find a urinal. Fortunately there was one inside a small brick structure that they found near the Boating Pond. As he came out of the building, he was studying the structure, and his phone was in his bare hand. "There's a sign in there explaining the building's provenance. It was built originally in the 1930s as a warming hut for skaters. It has some wonderful leaded and stained glass windows on the backside, quite lovely. Surprised I didn't know of this before." He took a few photos from different angles, clearly, the architectural details in this humble little building had charmed the architect in him.

He offered to purchase hot chocolate for the both of them from a vendor in a tea point deeper in the park. After filling Igor's collapsible water bowl, she leaned against the small counter stretching her legs whilst the vendor prepared their beverages. "Everything alright?"

"Oh, yes, fine. Just had somehow pulled a hamstring or such before the holidays. When it didn't go away I ended up needing several physical therapy sessions to recover. I'll stretch it again when I get home later. You best do the same, I know you bike and all but you don't want to stiffen up with this different form of exercise."

He caught the double entendre and gulped, staring forward. She missed it entirely.

They sat on a park bench drinking their cocoas, the dog sprawled at their feet. Later, as they had a few weeks before, they found an open part of the park, took Igor off his leash and Charles proceeded to launch tennis balls for him to fetch. Careful not to wear the dog out as he had a few weeks ago, Charles was consciously not throwing the balls as far or as frequently as he remembered doing so previously.

Standing around as they were for the most part, it was starting to feel cold again. When he picked up the ball one last time from the ground in front of him, he asked the dog, "Had enough for today?" Elsie agreed they should be heading back. After the hot cocoa though, she wanted to first use the loo, so they stopped at the old warming hut again. Elsie went in and when she came back out, Charles was bent over at the waist, a plastic bag on his hand picking up after Igor.

"Oh Charlie, I'm sorry, I can do that."

"No, no, I've got it. Do it every day." He found a rubbish bin and tossed the waste in. "Just going to duck in and wash my hands whilst we're here."

"Yes, of course."

When he came out, they both stepped around the back side so he could point out the windows, explaining some of their construction. And then they returned to the path, heading northeast.

Idle chit chat ensued again and they were more than halfway back to Southwark when he had built up the courage to ask, "Elsie, would you have dinner with me tonight?"

"Oh, that's sweet Charlie, but I'm afraid I'm all booked up tonight. Having my neighbours from next door over to dinner. They have a new baby, well he's 3 ½ months now, and I think they could use a night out. We tend to help one another out and I thought this would be a nice little something for them. Of course, it won't be like a real night out for them but a step in the right direction."

He marveled at her bottomless generosity, "You're such a caring and giving individual, Elsie."

"Yes, well, I do have an ulterior motive – gives me a chance to test-drive a recipe I thought I'd make for Easter when I have Becky and Martha over. I'm not much of a cook but I'd like to try something new and so I am planning to. What are you doing for Easter?"

"Robert and Cora's, down in Hampshire."

"Oh, that's right. Family holidays and polishing the silver. How long does the drive take?"

"No drive, I don't have a car. I take the South Western Railway from Waterloo, the ride is just over an hour."

"Hmmm, just about the same as when I drive down to Brighton."

"What's in Brighton?"

"Oh, Martha has a cottage yet, on the ocean. She and Harold bought it years ago as a get out of the city destination. After he died, Martha kept it as investment property, she had renters for many years. I think they would have loved to retire there but it's been empty for some time now, it needs some repairs. It's either part with the money or part with the property, but Martha won't budge either way. Anyway…Shrimpie, you can't take Shrimpie - I mean Lady – on the train, can you? What do you do with her?"

"I could, in a carrier, it's just that Robert and Cora have a big yellow Lab, Isis, who does not like Shrimpie for some reason." He stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes for a second and huffed. "Shrimpie."

"You really don't like that name, do you?" Elsie giggled at his momentary petulance.

"No, I don't," he sighed.

"Oh, Charlie, it's only a name." She paused then herself. "Wait, you told me before that you typically answer to Charles. You'll tell me please if you don't like me calling you Charlie."

He turned to her, touching her on the forearm and smiled reassuringly. "Elsie, I do like it. Back when I was a boy I answered to Charlie, did so through school, Scouts, University – save for Robert and other fraternity brothers - and then when I got my first job it was at a small outfit and the foreman on our crew was named Charlie. Every time anyone called out the name Charlie we both turned, only more often they were needing him. Pointing to me, the other chap told the whole lot, from now on _he's_ Charles. And it stuck. When I met Alice, that's what she called me too. Remember, we first met at work and I thought professionally it made more sense to be Charles." Then he smiled, "But there's always been a part me that's Charlie."

"What about Robert?"

"Hmm?"

"What does Robert call you?"

Chuckling, he continued, "Oh, Robert calls me On." Elsie wasn't following the logic, he could tell by her facial expression.

"Yes, On. It was a joke we came up with at University, the last part of our surnames. I'm On, Cars-On, and he's Ham. Cora hates it, always has. So a lot of times we are just using Charles and Robert when things are serious or with others in the room, but call or text me and it's On."

"Silly lads. And, what other names?"

"Well, Robert's daughters call me Uncle Carson, Sybbie calls me CC. It was easy for her to pronounce when she was a toddler. And beyond that, I guess everyone calls me Mr. Carson."

Elsie grabbed his hand playfully for a brief moment. "Thanks for sharing, Charlie." She flashed him that smile he was falling in love with. "Shall we continue, On?"

They were approaching Waterloo Station. "Elsie, I'm sorry, I have to duck in the Station to use the loo again." Enlarged prostate he went on to explain, sharing more than he had when they were together on Friday. "But you don't need to wait. It's just past 2:00 and you need to get home yet, clean up and I'm guessing it's not a late night for you with your neighbours."

"You're right, Charlie."

"Elsie, what do your evenings look like this week, other than Tuesday that is. I have a Committee meeting on Tuesday. I'd love to take you to dinner."

"Monday and Wednesday's aren't great, and then I have group on Thursday until 6:30, 6:45. By the time I bring Igor home, feed him and such I'm nowhere again before 7:45, 8:00 and I prefer not to eat that late, normally."

"But you pick him up in the mid-late afternoon yes, so you have Igor to walk home with you later?"

"Yes."

"Well, how about you change things up a bit. Go home in the afternoon as usual but just let him out. Don't bring him to the office, I can meet you there. We'll go to dinner, and I'll make sure you get home safe. I promise."

Tipping her head coquettishly, "Scout's honour?"

He nodded, "Scout's honour."

"OK, because if you don't, Beryl will roast you on a spit! Thursday dinner sounds lovely, it's a date. And today, this has been a lovely date too. Thank you, Charlie." She reached for his hand once again and used it as leverage to kiss him goodbye on the cheek.

Raising his eyebrows in delighted surprise, he replied, "You're welcome, Elsie. Thank you."


	15. Chapter 15: Doggie Bag

Thursday, 22 March 2018

Beryl Mason was not usually one to text her during business hours, but lucky Elsie, today was an exception.

 _Where U been hidin?_

Elsie didn't see the text until she had a half hour break between appointments around the noon hour. At that point, she replied and thereafter the two were quick in their text volley.

 _Nowhere, just busy._

 _Busier than usual? How THAT possible?!_

 _Ever-longer training walks on w/e's 4 starters._ Elsie was resolute in telling the truth, but not the whole truth, so help her. _Stocking freezer so less need 4 your tasty charity. Made dinner 4 Anna + John Sun eve. Went well, roast pork w/ Moroccan spiced apples. Plan to make it for Easter 4 Bec + Mar._

 _O…hoped you'd come over. Wm + fam in for w/e._

 _Thx, no. Need to do our own; Bec had nother seizure._

 _No! When?_

 _Cpl wks back, day of Thomas party._

 _Oh dear! Nvr heard bout either. You keepin me in dark on EVERYTHING! Bec doin alright?_

 _Y, better. U + B were away… your aunt's b-day party._

 _Helluva party! Doubt I'll B that sassy 85! Anyway…Easter weekend?_

 _Don't count on either! Maybe Sat w Wm._

 _Y, come then. 4 dinner._

Elsie left that possibility open. For now, most importantly, she had dodged a bullet, keeping Beryl off her trail. She knew her dear friend ALWAYS meant well, but Beryl had inserted herself into Elsie's romantic relationships more than once in the 30 years of their friendship and their mutual stubbornness left them often at loggerheads on the matter. Looking back, it seemed to Elsie when Beryl was a blissfully happy newlywed and young mom, her criteria by which to judge possible men for Elsie was a low bar; if it walked upright and had a penis, Beryl was talking him up to her. Yet, as the years passed, with those whom Elsie liked, Beryl would harp on their faults. More than once, Elsie listened to none of it, realizing in time neither of them had the best judgment for who or what was right for Elsie whatsoever. And now, after so many years of being alone – no, independent – there was a part of Elsie that just preferred to keep to herself if not guard her privacy.

As the week drew closer to Thursday, that was even true for her where Charles was concerned. Though he'd offered to pick her up at her office, she wasn't quite ready for cracking that door open. There was a reason her online professional presence was limited to email, bio and postal code. No professional headshot, no phone, no street address. Sure, it likely cost her some new business over the years, but it was a comparative small price to pay to keep away a jerk or two from her past, or future. While her instinct told Elsie to trust Charles, she simply had been burned by a few too many men in her past. It was a big hurdle to climb.

Still he wanted to have dinner, and a lass has to eat, but not necessarily do the cooking.

When she advised of the change in meet-up location, she kept it vague and asked if he liked Chinese. It was going to be their first dinner date and her logic was they'd met on the first day of Lunar New Year, so Chinese made sense. Plus, she knew a great little place that she'd frequented for years, specifically for the duck three way they were famous for.

Charles was game to try something new and so Elsie told him the address of Fun Shui and to meet her at 7:00.

 _What's the dress code?_ he asked via text that afternoon.

 _You're thinking way too posh. VERY casual + BYO._

 _I'll bring something along, what would you prefer?_

 _Still cold out. Red wine, please._

6:54 pm

This time she was the first to arrive, in part because she'd taken a taxi to the restaurant from the office to appease her friends.

Mrs. Chow, the owner, hostess and sometimes server was glad to see Elsie's familiar face and welcomed her back with a hug. It had been some time since she'd last been in. During the weekdays, Elsie would eat here alone or occasionally with Becky. It was one of Becky's favorite restaurants, as much for the food as the sunken dining tables in the center of the room. By now, it was such an old habit that Elsie only sat at one of the sunken tables, unless she was here with a larger group for weekend dim sum. So when Elsie arrived without Becky tonight, Mrs. Chow was both surprised and intrigued when Elsie requested a table for two. Elsie picked what appeared to be a quiet one, near the aquarium – away from the fireplace.

As Elsie took off her coat and tucked herself into the pit around the table, Mrs. Chow stayed and chatted with Elsie until another group of diners arrived and she left to seat them. Mrs. Chow and that party were still on their way to that other table when Charles came through the door, patting down his hair with his right hand. The weather had just started to warm up yesterday, right on time for Spring. Elsie waved to him from her seat and Charles spotted her and proceeded to walk over.

Charles was wearing a charcoal colored pea coat with the collar up, green patterned scarf, and camel colored trousers and shoes. He was carrying what was obviously their bottle of wine in a felt carrier of some sort. Elsie smiled as he walked toward her. She thought he looked good and felt a faint thrill at the thought this handsome man was there to meet _her_! Elsie attempted to stand up to greet him as he approached the table but standing up was something she hadn't thought through completely, so she managed to get off her bum and that was about it, instead Charles bent down to her. For the first time, they both kissed one another's cheek in greeting. "Lovely to see you, Elsie."

"And you, Charlie."

He had stepped back already and was studying how exactly to fold his legs to get into the table as he unzipped his jacket. It had been a while since he'd faced one of these configurations and he'd been much younger and more limber. "We can change tables, if you'd like. I just usually sit at the sunken tables. Better posture and all."

By now, he had sat down on the cushion to Elsie's right, not opposite her, and hoisted his feet off the floor. "No, no, no need to move. I'm sure I can get in, I just might need some help getting out later!"

Mrs. Chow had come back over to their table and watched, skeptically, as Charles maneuvered his legs between the front edge of the bench seat and underside of the table. Charles's face and shoulders relaxed when, with a few more adjustments, he completed the task of sitting down with Elsie. He slipped the jacket off his shoulders and lay it on the seat on his right before placing his fingers on the edge of the table, shoulder width apart, looking over at her and smiling warmly, "Hello."

"Hi." She was so glad to see him. "Nice shirt. Is that Big Ben on there?"

Charles looked down as he pulled the front of his shirt out a little away from his torso. It was a graphic pattern of off-white, a dark red, and fainter navy blue, "Yes, 7:20 and 1:50 on his face."

"Cheeky."

Mrs. Chow stepped closer, "Hello, something to drink?"

"Ah, I brought us a bottle of wine. So just an opener and glasses, unless you'd like something more, Elsie?"

"A bottle of water please, flat ok?"

"Sounds good."

Mrs. Chow left the table to retrieve the requested items.

"How's your day been?" he asked.

"Good, good. Yours?"

"Just made a turn for the better three minutes ago." Making a study of the navy blue tunic and printed blue infinity scarf she was wearing, he noted. "Elsie, you look very nice, great color on you."

"Thank you." Mrs. Chow arrived back at the table and began transferring the items from her tray onto their table.

Charles, noting the small bowls on the wine glasses asked, "Excuse me, do you have red wine glasses?"

Mrs. Chow replied matter-of-factly, "No, only clear glasses. You ready to order?"

Charles wrinkled his brow and blinked, perplexed by her unexpected answer, which elicited a small laugh from Elsie. "Give us a moment please, Mrs. Chow."

"I come back."

Charles removed the bottle from its carrier, setting the fabric down on the table between them. Elsie ran her hand over the soft, grey fabric. "Oh, this is nice."

As he began to cork the bottle, he explained, "Yes, I like it too. Bought it from a vendor set up on the sidewalk at Berwick Street Market, um, last November as I recall. She makes them herself and does nice work. I have a few more at home, have been using them for gift giving. You're welcome to keep this one."

"So, I'm not the only caring and giving individual at this table?" He smiled at her, recognizing one of his compliments from last Sunday. Elsie handed him a menu and explained the house specialty that was her, Becky and Martha's favorite. From one whole duck the kitchen prepares duck soup, Peking Duck with Mandarin Pancakes, and duck fried rice, enough to feed two and still have leftovers from every course – all for one ridiculously low price. If she came here with Becky, they usually brought the leftovers to Martha. Charles listened intently and then studied the menu further. A delivery of other dishes to a nearby table caught his eye as well.

"You ready to order now?"

Charles looked up from the menu to Elsie. "The duck three way sounds wonderful, but I'm really hungry and everything looks and smells delicious. So, how about we get the duck and a couple other things?"

"Charles, it's been my experience that the duck alone is more than enough for two, but if you wish to order more, Chinese leftovers are always good."

"I agree. OK, yes, so we'll have the duck three way and an order of dumplings – fried or steamed, Elsie?"

"Steamed, please."

"And then one order of prawns in black bean sauce and a plate of stir-fried veg?"

He had finally stopped ordering. Elsie was speechless by how much food he had outlined, so much so that she didn't respond either way to his question. Mrs. Chow was surprised too. She had stopped writing after he mentioned prawns. He clearly didn't know how much food this equated to. But rather than say that in so many words, she instead said in Charles's direction, "Big lad. Big appetite," and then continuing the thought she looked over toward Elsie before saying under her breath, "Other things big?" And she winked before walking away toward the kitchen to turn in their order.

Elsie was so embarrassed her cheeks went red. When she looked over at Charles, he too was in shock, with an expression that communicated to her wordlessly, _did she just say what I think she said?_ Together it all prompted Elsie to burst out laughing and she immediately covered her mouth with her hand to suppress it further. It was enough to make Charles start laughing as well. Soon she was wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry! Mrs. Chow is always like a Chinese Ma to me, protective and such I think it's because she hasn't seen me here alone with a man before!"

Charles sat up a little straighter, cleared his throat and cocked his head to one side and back, "Ma or Mao?" He chuckled again, lightening the mood with the little joke. "Yes, well. Um, how has your week been?"

He asked how her Sunday dinner had gone with her neighbours; she told him the success of the meal preparation itself and how sweet the baby was in smell and disposition. It was casual, jeans and sneakers she needed it after the long walk, her feet being tired and all.

Their soup and dumplings were delivered to the table in short order. Charles ate four of the six; they both were exclusively eating with their respective soup spoons and chopsticks and proving adept at using them, although with somewhat different techniques.

When their entrees were delivered, the plates were heaping full and covered the table. Elsie and Mrs. Chow both gave him the _we told you so_ look. As the two dug in, Charles asked Elsie about her work, he was genuinely interested in learning more about what exactly she did as a therapist.

She told him how she'd put her clinical credentials, master's of social work degree and post-graduate studies to work over the last 18 years in her own practice. How she has come to specialize in counseling adolescents and young adults - students and professionals - facing pressures of various sorts be they academic, social, and/or professional in nature. They come to her with all sorts of issues - drug addiction, eating disorders, grief, terminal illness, anxiety/ depression, trauma, sexual identity and family dysfunction – and she helps them take charge of their lives, get back on track. Though she has a reputation for "tough love", above all she tries to create a positive atmosphere for partnership between her and her clients whilst reminding them they can also afford to "live a little." Regardless of the condition they come to her in, the end goal is always self-improvement and learning how to make positive decisions that will help them in the long run.

Charles found it fascinating, a whole different world than he was familiar with other the group grief counseling he'd gone through via the palliative care providers who had helped Alice in her final weeks. When he asked if she found her work rewarding, there was no question; although it was often stress-filled, success stories like Thomas Barrow's were especially fulfilling.

He observed all the emotions – including maternal pride – that her hands, eyes, mouth were conveying in that moment and for only the second time in his life, the little voice inside told him he was falling in love.

"Oh, you did good, but no clean plate club prize for you, first-timer." Mrs. Chow was back and speaking to him.

"Mrs. Chow, this is my…this is Charlie."

"Hi Charlie, how you like it?" Mrs. Chow was warming up to him.

"Incredibly delicious, my compliments to the chef. But you were right, my eyes were bigger than my stomach."

"That's okay, I wrap up leftovers, send them home in doggy bag. Hey, Elsie, how's your pooch?"

"He's good – some of the time! Charlie has a dog too."

"Oh, that's good. You want one bag or two?"

Charles spoke up before Elsie even had a chance to, "One will be fine, Mrs. Chow."

"Oh, one bag. Alright Elsie!" Mrs. Chow began to clear the table.

After Mrs. Chow left, Elsie offered, "Charlie, you should take some home."

"No, I'm fine, thanks. It was great, but you said you usually bring the leftovers to Martha."

"Aye, but there's more left over than I _ever_ bring to Martha."

"Well, save some for yourself. Lunch tomorrow, or whenever."

"Okay…"

Mrs. Chow returned with the leftovers in a not so small brown paper bag. "I put extra container of rice, veg and duck skin in there for the dogs. Keep them regular. Anything else?"

"Ah, do you have almond cookies?"

"You still _hungry_? How many you like?"

"Two please. Elsie?" She declined by way of holding up her hand.

When Mrs. Chow came back, she brought the check, Charles's two almond cookies and two Fortune cookies. Elsie grabbed the check and put it to her side, out of his reach.

"What's this?"

"Fortune cookies, and my treat tonight, Mr. Chivalry," Elsie replied, through the beginnings of a yawn that she stifled discretely.

"Thank you, Elsie. Yes, I realize they're Fortune cookies, but the food here is so authentic and Fortune cookies are so, well, so _American_!"

"Are you anti-American, Charlie?"

"No, just pro-British," he said through a bite of Almond cookie.

"Well, what about Sybil and family, aren't they in America?"

"That's different, they're still British ex-pats. Well, Tom is Irish."

Elsie had finally found the hint of a pinhole in this gallant knight's suit of armour; he was mortal after all. She cracked open her fortune cookie and read the message inside:

 _Dream BIG!_ And her face reddened once again, just as it had earlier this evening when Mrs. Chow equated Charles with the word. And she got even redder when she thought of something else Beryl had taught her after she and Bill had traveled to San Francisco three years ago. Something else tied to the American Fortune cookie experience, specifically, adding the words _between the sheets_ as a continuation of a fortune.

"Are you having another hot flash, Elsie? We can get out of here if you are."

She shook her head. He realized it was the fortune. "What does yours say, Elsie?" Charles wanted to know, but she refused, claiming it would be "bad luck." The non-trusting part of her didn't even crumble up the paper but instead slipped it inside her purse.

Finished with his almond cookies, Charles then opened his Fortune cookie and huffed his disagreement with the sentiment. "Well, I don't mind reading you mine because it contains no possibility of bad luck, it's just impossibility: _Your sports team will be very successful this year._ There's no chance, England's Rugby team is not going to do well in 2018, they don't have the team they've had the last few years."

"But, didn't the season just start a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, and they're 2 and 2 going into Saturday's game against Ireland at Twickenham, I fear they're going to get slaughtered."

"Well, give the lads a chance, don't be such a curmudgeon, cheer the home team on!"

"Did you just call me a curmudgeon?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, because it seems you are being exactly that right now." Charles frowned and she reached her hand out to cover his, "Ah, don't worry, Charlie, it's one of my favorite words. And Martha calls me a curmudgeon all the time when I don't do what she wants!"

Sitting without a backrest for so long was causing him to slouch, but Elsie's implying that "curmudgeon" was actually a term of endearment made him raise his bushy eyebrows, sit up a little straighter once again, and let out a small grunt of delight. Not to mention she had yet to move her hand away from his, but then she did, into her lap. Damn and blast, he'd acted too slowly.

"Besides, I thought you said you were a cricket man."

"I am, it's just I'm going to the game on Saturday."

"Oh," Elsie had planned to do her training walk Saturday afternoon and hoped she might persuade him to go along with her and Igor. "What time is that?"

Charles dashed her hopes with his reply, "2:45, but we're leaving no later than 1:30."

"Oh." She paused to consider then added, "Who's we?"

"The Talbot family. You needn't be jealous."

Now she huffed, "Noooo, I didn't mean to give you that impression."

"Matthew's firm has a box and they've invited me to join them for the big Six Nations finale."

"Whatever that means."

"It means, an important game."

"But you just said England didn't have a chance."

He rolled his eyes, they were becoming more comfortable with one another and being more transparent. "They don't have a chance for the season, correct, and certainly not in this game, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth going to. Didn't you just say, 'cheer on the home team.'"

"I did, and it sounds like you will do exactly that."

"I will for certain, Queen and country and all."

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. She wondered how is it that one goes from talking about a game of grown men in short trousers huddled together covered in perspiration, blood and mud chasing after an oddly shaped orb one second and then mention Her Majesty in the next breath. Anyway, it prompted her to yawn again.

"Looks like I best be letting you get home. Taxi again, yes?"

She nodded, while covering her mouth and another yawn. "Pardon me, Charlie. It's not the company, just the week and this comfort food catching up with me."

"What are you doing Saturday?" She swiveled on her bum to extract herself from the table before standing up.

"Oh, well, a combination of just the usual, tomorrow and Saturday – Becky, Martha, housework, my walk."

"What about Sunday?" Charles himself was now struggling to get out of the table with a hint of grace in tact.

"No plans."

"So you're free in the evening?" He helped her put her coat on.

"Mm-hmm."

"I have tickets to the ballet that night. Originally, I didn't think I'd go. It's ALICE IN WONDERLAND and well, the name's just a trigger for me. But now I'm thinking differently."

"Are you asking me to the ballet, Mr. Carson?"

"I am."

"I've never been. It sounds lovely. Plan on it. If I take my walk on Sunday, maybe you'd join me earlier in the day?"

"Well, that's a thought. And as much as I'd enjoy joining you for a walk again, I don't know as you will want to take that walk on Sunday."

"Why not? We can do so earlier. I'd likely go home take a rest and clean up before the ballet."

"Well, didn't you say earlier that your feet hurt after those walks?"

"I did, but they aren't going to ask the audience members to go _en pointe_ are they?"

"Of course not, I just thought…I just thought it might be nice if you wore those sparkly heels you wore to the anniversary party," he cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable at this reveal.

She gave him a sly half smile. "You like my glittery taxi shoes do you, Charlie?"

Clearing his throat he confirmed, "Yes, yes, I do."

She smiled, "Okay, no walk on Sunday so I can meet you in my heels." As she walked ahead of him toward the restaurant exit her smile grew to the point where it couldn't get any wider as she thought to herself, _Charlie has a foot fetish, and has asked me to wear my most kinky heels again for him – to the ballet. And, I think he's my boyfriend_.


	16. Chapter 16: Underdogs

A/N: I want to first take a moment to acknowledge a few guests' comments for earlier chapters. 1) This being only my third Fic, and second multi-chapter one, it's new learning to see that guest reviews take about 48 hours for me to see whereas others' post much quicker. Thank you to ALL reviewers, guests and non-guests! 2) For the person who mentioned enjoying the cleverness of the chapter names – I too am getting a little thrill from this! Glad you're enjoying – next two are lined up! 3) To Guest Suzie who kindly includes her name – thanks for all the thoughtful reviews and kind encouragement within them!

Also, for those readers tuning in as these chapters go live, please note this one wasn't originally part of my plan but a Tweet from LAST WEEK'S England-Ireland Rugby game (match?, I've seen it referred to both ways) that Jim Carter had attended the game IRL made it too tempting to pass up incorporating it IFL. And so, a week after the real game was played, through the magic of make believe, Twickenham Stadium hosts the big Six Nations finale on 24 March not 17 March.

CECECECECECECECECECECECECEC

Saturday, 24 March 2018

8:40 am

This morning's light rain kept Charles from a bicycle ride so he opted for an hour's worth of laps in the pool instead. After toweling off and donning his dressing gown, he'd exited the pool area on the 25th floor to be greeted with the sweet scent of cinnamon and warm yeast bread as he entered the vestibule; it smelled incredible and he suddenly had a craving for sweet hot buns. Surely with Easter now just over a week away, bakeries would have the buns with the distinct cross on their tops flying out of their ovens as fast as possible.

As he stood waiting for the passenger lift, catering staff was shuffling from the freight lift into the prep kitchen and others were in the Winter Garden setting up for a spring party. He had no idea whose party, but they had certainly captured his attention with at least one menu item. That settled it, he was going to go and get himself some hot buns as well.

By 9:00 he had showered and dressed and just disconnected from a call with Mary Talbot who had phoned to say he should meet her, Matthew and George downstairs, ready to leave, at 1:15 this afternoon. He appreciated the advanced notice, as he knew Mary to normally be a little too last minute. It afforded him the opportunity to calculate how long Lady would be alone whilst he went to the rugby match with them. Charles figured they wouldn't return until 5:45 at the earliest and therefore on his way out the door stopped by the concierge desk and made arrangements for someone to take Lady out at approximately 4:30.

A few miles away, Elsie was heading out to Martha's. She chose to leave Igor at home. If nothing else, should things get tense between her and the often-cantankerous Martha, Elsie figured she could use Igor as an excuse to bolt home. She also wouldn't have to drive, she didn't like driving in the rain anyway. Walking in the rain was a different story; she grabbed her brolly and was glad to rely on the Underground for a change - back to her old ways, before Igor, before Martha's hand-me-down Mercedes.

Charles was headed a different direction. There were two bakeries he was partial to in greater London, one was up in Hampstead and he'd stopped in that one, Hampstead Hearth, both when he'd dropped off and picked up his bicycle for repairs recently. The other was The Bread Man in Berwick Street Market in Soho and he decided to go there today. It was only about a 30 minute walk to the Market, he would pick up the buns, and a few other bits for tomorrow.

He'd decided he would invite Elsie to come by his place prior to the ballet. He wasn't sure if she'd say yes, but he'd have a few things to serve in case she did. Oh, and some flowers. He remembered she really liked the flowers he'd bought spur of the moment on Becky's birthday a few weeks ago.

This morning when Elsie arrived at the assisted living center, she already knew to find Martha in the dining room by way of the texts they had traded on her way over. Martha, being both an insomniac and a night owl, was among the last to come down to the dining room for breakfast. She had already ordered her requisite two fried eggs with _crispy_ bacon and pot of Earl Grey. It had been Martha's daily breakfast as far back as Elsie had known her; no carbs, and, amazingly, no high cholesterol readings for Martha.

"Oh Elsie, there you are. It's been forever. You had me thinking I wouldn't see you again until my funeral!"

"Hi Martha," she leaned down as the older woman shared a warm embrace and kiss on the cheek.

"Before you sit down, maybe you'll ask the young lass working this morning to bring another cup and saucer so you can share some tea. She's over there, her name is Penelope."

"Sure, she needn't wait on me. Anything else you need whilst I'm up?"

"No, no, I'm all set."

As Elsie returned and poured herself tea, adding just a bit of milk, she told Martha, "I don't recognize Penelope. She seems sweet."

"Sweet, but not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. They hired her for the custodial team initially and one of the first tasks they gave her day one was to raise the Union Jack on the flagpole. Chap who's in charge of that team took her outside, showed her where the hooks go on the grommets and such, raised Jack up and tied down the rope. Pretty easy, eh? Next day it's hers to do alone. Came in said good morning, got the flag, went out there and stayed out there by the flagpole 15 minutes, easily! Finally, the same chap goes out and asks, _what's going on?_ Penelope explains to him she doesn't know what she's doing wrong. She attached the flag the way he'd showed her – he confirmed it was done right – and then went on to explain the day before when it got to the top, the flag was pointing _away_ from the building, but that day, every time she raised it to the top, the flag was pointing _toward_ the building. She was serious! Can you imagine being that clueless about one of the five great elements? Poor girl. Anyway, instead of firing her, they moved her to the dining services team thereafter. That's how desperate they are for help around here."

"Oh my."

"I have your breakfast, Mrs. Levinson."

"True story. Oh, Penelope, thank you, dear. That looks wonderful. If I could please just ask you for a small plate, I'd like to put my bacon on it so none of the egg yolk gets on it."

Elsie just rolled her eyes. It was the same routine every time Martha had ordered breakfast from _anyone_. Why she never asked for her bacon to be served on a separate plate when she ordered breakfast - always waiting until it was delivered and making the poor server make a second trip – was beyond Elsie. As Martha began seasoning her eggs with salt and pepper, she asked, "So, what's new with you? To what do I owe the honor of your company this morning? I haven't seen you for almost, what, two weeks?"

Just like with Beryl, Elsie knew she had to keep her guard up. She didn't want to reveal anything about Charlie. It was too soon, and Martha would be all over it, like a dog with a bone. "Two weeks today in fact. I saw you just before Thomas's anniversary party."

"Oh yeah, thanks for texting me the photo. Couldn't see it very well, it's so small when you send it that way."

"I've told you Martha, click on a texted photo to enlarge it."

"Well, you looked good. I was glad. That was a good color on you."

Finally, a compliment, with some saracasm in her voice, Elsie replied, "Thank you, Martha. Kind of you to say."

"So you had the party and then Becky had her seizure. How's my petal doing?"

"Well, it was quite a scare and it threw the early part of my week last week off entirely. But she's doing better. I saw her yesterday afternoon, took her for a haircut. She seems to have stabilized under her new seizure med. She says _hi_ and looks forward to seeing you next week for Easter. Which reminds me, before I forget, I'm going to pick Becky up next Saturday and she's spending the night. We'll go to church Easter Sunday and then come and pick you up, I'm guessing by 11:00. We'll have a nice Sunday roast and spend the afternoon together and then I'll bring the both of you home before it's too late. I hope that sounds alright."

"Oh it does. What are you making exactly?"

"A nice new recipe, Moroccan pork."

"Sounds spicy!"

"It is. I made it last weekend as a trial run. It's good, I think you'll like it."

"I'm sure I will, anything's better than the food served here in the land of bland."

"Oh, that reminds me, I went to Fun Shui Thursday night, I have leftover duck three way for you in this insulated bag here."

"Going out on Thursday? Don't you have group on Thursday nights?"

Here it comes, thought Elsie. Be strong, lass. "I do, and we wrapped that one right on time and I just had a taste for duck. Simple as that." Martha was studying her suspiciously, but Elsie gave nothing away. Finally, Martha started to stand up, "Well, let's go put that in my fridge." Martha almost lost her balance getting up, Elsie grabbing her by the elbow to steady her. "I'm okay. I'm okay. Just moving a little too fast this morning I guess." By now Martha was upright and Elsie gradually released her grip. "Really, I'm okay."

"Martha, you have to be more careful. You know that's what landed you here in the first place."

"Yeah, I know. Let's go up, Elsie."

Charles hadn't been to Berwick Street Market since pre-Christmas and it was nice to be recognized by the merchants. He bought, and ate, the hot cross buns straight away then made it to Soho Dairy where he bought cheese. Next some fresh figs, apples and grapes from one of the fruit and veg vendors, and last, he bought two bunches of tulips, one white one lavender at Ronnie's Flowers.

Elsie was rather concerned to see her stalwart mentor actually showing signs of frailty. But once they settled upstairs in Martha's apartment, Chinese takeout containers put away, they actually shared a lovely chat. It was a nice change from how many of their visits went, though as Martha outlined the things she wanted Elsie to pick up for her before Easter Sunday, Elsie was once again feeling the underdog wondering when she would fit it all in.

Martha wanted to assemble some Easter baskets, three small ones: one for her friend Gareth and two for the women who clean the units, another larger one for the staff at the front desk. She wanted to give them Easter morning, therefore it was really Elsie she was expecting to pick up the baskets trinkets and treats, and assemble the baskets - beautifully, of course.

Martha also advised she'd like the spring pea and asparagus salad Elsie had made last year for Easter and vanilla custard with fresh strawberries for their pudding. Elsie thought Becky would be agreeable to both and she agreed too given they would be ultra easy for her to prepare compared to some alternatives.

Shortly after 11:00, Elsie got up reasoning she needed to be moving along; with the light rain stopped, she hoped to do some garden work and still get in for a manicure later today. When Martha asked why she was getting a manicure a full week before Easter, Elsie nearly made mention of the ballet tomorrow night but caught herself. Instead she threw out the logic that the nail spa would just get busier closer to the holiday. Martha bought it.

Elsie said goodbye and promised Martha to see her late morning on Easter. "I'll be here, you can count on it." Elsie called the nail spa on her walk back to the Underground station and was glad she could still get in today, at 4:15.

After returning home, she took Igor for a quick walk then heated up the last of the Chinese leftovers for herself and added more items to her grocery list when she realized how empty her fridge was. Elsie determined her best course would be to go straight to Tesco after her manicure. Then she changed into her Wellies, Dungaries and an old warm jacket and hat and took Igor out into the back yard with her. It was proving a good day to be out there and work off some stress.

1:05 pm

Charles put Lady inside her kennel, tucked his phone, keys and wallet inside his weatherproof red jacket, grabbed his brolly and headed down to the lobby. While he was waiting for the Talbot family, Thomas Barrow and Simon Bricker came through the front lobby; by way of the parcels in their hands it was obvious they too were just now returning from one of the Saturday markets.

"Hello Thomas, Simon, how are you both today?"

"Doing well, Mr. Carson. Good to be back home and in for the remainder of the day. Where are you off to?"

"Twickenham for the big Six Nations finale."

"Oh, lucky you, yes, we're planning to tune in this afternoon. Hope the lads can rally and make a game of it."

Charles chuckled at the absurdity of that possibility, "Yes, well, they'll play through to the end."

"How is Lady? I haven't seen her in forever," Simon inquired.

"Well, she is going on 100 in dog years, so she has some health matters, in fact, Antoni from the concierge team is going to take her out whilst I'm gone to the game."

"Mr. Carson, if you ever need someone to watch her, please just say so. She's a sweetheart and we're right here in the building and home more often than not. We'd be delighted, even for an overnight," Thomas added.

"That's very kind of you and funny you should mention that, I am actually going away next Saturday for the holiday and realize I still need to sort out her arrangements."

"Well, we'll be home. My cousin Sarah is coming into town on Friday. The plan is to stay in and cook most of the day for a dinner party we're hosting on Saturday evening and then Sunday we'll be out for brunch again and otherwise just taking it easy. We'll be around. We could take care of Lady, don't you think, Simon?" His husband nodded in agreement. "Whatever you decide, Mr. Carson."

"Thank you, I'll let you know, Tuesday evening at the Board meeting at the latest. I'm assuming you'll be there."

"Oh we will, enjoy the game!" The two boarded the lift and headed up to their 17th floor condominium.

Charles wandered around the lobby. The crystals in the fixture – he hesitated to call it a chandelier – above the lounge area were really showing a number of scratches. At least his detailed eye saw them and he marveled that no one else apparently did. He made a mental note to bring that up at the Board meeting; it should be taken down and brought back to ship-shape.

"Hi, Mr. Carson!" Charles turned toward the voice and approaching loud footsteps as George Crawley came bounding toward him at full speed and stopping right in front of him. "I'm glad you're going to the game with us! Go England!" The last part George shouted up at him.

"Inside voice, young man," came the voice of the lad's father. Extending his hand to Charles, Matthew continued, "Good afternoon, Mr. Carson. George speaks for all of us when he says _we're_ glad you're able to join us."

"Hello, Mr. Talbot, I appreciate your invitation. Mrs. Talbot," Charles stepped forward to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, the tall raven-haired young woman accepted it effortlessly.

"Mr. Carson, so long as I've agreed to join you lads on this wonky adventure in sport, today of all days, you must agree to be a little wonky yourself as well. Please, call us Matthew and Mary."

Charles permitted himself a half smile, shaking his head. "I'm afraid that today, I must do as you ask, Mary, Matthew, and George, I thank you all kindly for the invitation. In turn, please, do me the same honour."

Matthew interjected, "I believe we'll stick with Mr. Carson yet, to foster some good manners in Master George here." Gesturing toward the revolving door where one of the building's drivers was waiting patiently, Matthew continued, "Mr. Carson, I've arranged for Divvie to take us over to my office where we'll meet the others and board our shuttle from there. Shall we?"

As the foursome approached the revolving door, Divvie smiled and greeted each of them before leading the way outside. The black SUV, it's exterior shiny and spot-free was parked in the front driveway and Divvie held the rear passenger door open as George climbed in the rear jump seat and Mary in front of him. Matthew took the front passenger seat and Charles went around to the other side and sat behind Divvie.

Charles so seldom used the car service that he nearly forgot about the South Bank Tower's amenity of free (covered in the monthly assessment), pre-arranged rides to or from the building, within a 2.5 mile radius. It sounded short to an outsider, but in a city like London, that covered a great deal. It was perfect for trips to all the major train stations: Waterloo, Kings Cross and Paddington for those headed on to Heathrow though one needed to book in advance, at least 12 hours, in consideration of traffic.

After everyone was buckled in, the vehicle was crossing the Thames and headed toward St. Paul's. Mary turned to Charles and asked, "What are you doing for Easter, Mr. Carson?"

"Oh, heading out to Hampshire to spend the better part of the weekend with my best friend and his family. Although I suppose that sounds like more than it really will be. I think there's only to be four of us. And you?"

"Heading to Manchester to Matthew's parents' on Friday. His brother lives there and so George will be able to play with his cousins Olivia and Charlie as well."

"Yes, and we'll hunt for Easter eggs in Nana and Papa's yard!"

Eyeing his son through the rearview mirror, Matthew counseled, "Not so loud, son. We don't want your mother or Mr. Carson to lose their hearing just yet – save that for the crowd at the game."

"Oh yes, I can hardly wait," Mary rolled her eyes.

"Mary's not the biggest rugby fan, Mr. Carson."

She shook her head in an exaggerated way, "No, but I am a fan of the open bar with Gins and Tonic!"

"As we all are, which is why we're all taking the shuttle to and from Twickenham."

"I hope you haven't had too large a luncheon, Mr. Carson. There's always quite a spread."

"Ah, here we are and there's our second ride. Divvie, thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Talbot. Just a reminder, I'm all booked up later with other residents."

"No worries, Divvie. It was and still is kind of hard to predict when we'll be back from the game."

"Yes, Mr. Talbot." Divvie was out of the car, holding the door for Mary. Matthew and Charles walked around to her side just in time to hear George as he jumped down to the ground, "Thanks, Divvie! I mean, Mr. Divvie!"

"You're welcome, Master George, enjoy the game!"

Matthew worked near the Central Criminal Courts, in one of the office buildings on Fleet Place. Just seeing the façade of it brought back difficult memories for Charles of those days of their lawsuit with Alice's first surgeon. But those recollections were short-lived as the four were soon on the shuttle with ten others, colleagues of Matthew's and their guests. Matthew facilitated introductions all around with the other three couples: Sam, & Kim, Roland & Claudia, Adwait & Darin, Charles knowing he'd never remember them all, except for Donald – Mr. Seck, Matthew's boss and the firm's founder – who had brought along his son and twin teenage granddaughters who were sporting red and white facepaint.

On the ride to Twickenham, Mary sat with George and Matthew beside Charles who dissected the home team and visitors. It was getting warm on the shuttle even with his jacket unzipped. Charles apologized as he adjusted himself in the seat to take the jacket off. He was wearing faded grey denim trousers, a dark cool grey shawl-collar cardigan jumper, and a red crew neck t-shirt underneath, a speck of which was visible at the base of his neck.

2:00 pm

Satisfied with the gardening she had completed, Elsie came indoors to clean herself up. Realizing the time, she texted Charles, "Go home team!" before stepping into the shower.

2:10 pm

Emptying their pockets for Security at the Stadium, Charles saw the telltale sign of a new text on his phone but didn't make an effort to read it just then in the jostling about.

Seck, Semple & Elgas's luxury box at Twickenham was just right of the 40 metre line on the home side of the pitch. Similar to Charles's two seats at the ballet, the box was close enough to feel a part of the action, with luxury amenities like the Gins & Tonic Mary Talbot had mentioned on their ride over. Between food & drink, the anthem, conversation with others and the action on the pitch, Charles didn't check his phone again until halftime when he saw Elsie's text.

He replied, _Down 21-5 halftime. Terrible._

The men, including Charles, alternated between the front open section and the enclosed, back section where Mary and the other women remained throughout, due to the cool temperatures outside though that was where the Seck granddaughters stayed the whole of the game save for whenever they wanted more crisps.

George being more interested in football had trouble following along and kept asking his father and occasionally Charles what was happening, why it was happening or pouting that he could not see well, especially when the crowd cheered. Although both answered George attentively, Charles could tell the interruptions piling up were testing Matthew's patience. So when George announced he needed to use the loo with 15 minutes to go in the second half, Charles offered to take the lad. When they came through the box, Mary asked from her high top perch where they were off to and Charles waved her off when she said she could take her son to the family toilets.

Charles made sure George had a ticket on his person just in case they were separated in the concourse and as they walked toward the men's room, Charles instructed the lad on what to do should that occur. He wasn't trying to scare George, just making sure he was prepared and that included knowing his mother's phone number, "just in case." George showed Charles the bandage-like In Case of Emergency sticker with Mary's handwritten number on his forearm that "mummy put on at home."

Charles raised his eyebrows approvingly, not knowing anything like the sticker even existed. It also made Charles himself less anxious. Charles led George up to use one of the urinals and when George was finished, Charles guided George to the side and stepped up himself. He walked the subtle line of minding his own business by looking straight ahead whilst still needing to keep track of the lad.

Charles encouraged, "Don't stare, George."

This only prompted the boy to spin around 360 degrees in confusion declaring, "I don't see any stairs in here!"

After Charles zipped up his trousers, they stepped over to wash hands. Charles dispensed the soap into George's tiny ones as they were sharing a sink. When Charles was finished but George still lathering away the lad scrunched his nose up, "Twenty seconds, Mr. Carson! You're supposed to wash for twenty seconds!"

When the game was over, everyone in their box stayed put for a little while in the hopes of the crowd clearing out. Charles looked at his phone once again and saw a crying emoji reply from Elsie. He typed in,

 _Just gone final 24 -15 Ireland. On our way home soon. Call you later about tomorrow._

By then, Elsie's fingertips were submerged in warm water as her manicure had begun. This time, the bottle of nail polish she'd selected caught her attention not only by way of the dark burgundy colour but the name, FAIRY TALE DRAGON. Though ALICE IN WONDERLAND wasn't truly a fairy tale it was a fantasy tale and she really was having her nails done in preparation for ALICE.

George begged to sit beside Charles on the shuttle ride home. Charles didn't mind and it worked fine for all as traffic from the Stadium into the city moved slowly and he was able to occupy the lad with magic tricks of disappearance. George was simply transfixed and delighted, giggling frequently and begging, "where did it go?" They were seated one row in front of and across the aisle from Matthew and Mary who was delighted by how happy her son seemed to be with Mr. Carson.

Upon returning to Fleet Place, all departed the shuttle and said their goodbyes, their foursome agreeing to walk home in part to allow George to burn off some of his bottled up energy. It was a good evening for a walk and the route home just over a mile. The city lights were taking effect and the dome at St. Paul's, as always, looked spectacular.

While they'd said no when George asked the first time if they could stop for pizza, by the time he asked again two blocks later, Matthew and Mary had conferred and, recognizing it would be quicker than preparing something once they got home, agreed they would stop at the next pizza place they came to north of Blackfriars Bridge. They graciously invited Charles to join them though he declined, not feeling in the least bit hungry after grazing the buffet throughout the game. So they said their goodbyes, George even giving him a hug, and Charles thanking them for including him in their afternoon.

He was over the Thames when he felt his phone buzz. This time, he took it out of his pocket right away and read two texts. The first, from Sybil, was to him and Robert:

 _24-15?! Tom GLOATING! Don't worry, Sybbie and I were cheering for England! Ours a house divided…Luv U both!_

The second text was from Elsie.

 _Just back from my manicure. They had the game on in the salon. Tough loss!_

He put his phone away and decided he would call her as soon as he was home and settled. But before that he took Lady out for a quick walk and also stopped at the concierge desk inquiring about the availability of the shuttle tomorrow about 5:00 pm and 8:15. Yes, it was available, Ran'dall was due to be on duty and he would be waiting downstairs at 5:00.

After he'd hung his coat up, poured himself a glass of wine and settled into one of the Eames chairs in the den, he hit the screen on his phone beside Elsie's name. She picked up after the second ring.

"If you're about to jump off a ledge or bridge, I'll pull on my therapist hat and talk you down."

He chuckled. "That won't be necessary. I intend to live to see another cricket season. And before then, to take you to the ballet."

"Ballet?" For a split second she dashed his spirit, he thought she'd forgotten, and it hadn't even been 48 hours since he'd mentioned it. Well, she did have so much going on in her life. "Just kidding, I'm so looking forward to it! I remembered that I have an old, old copy of ALICE IN WONDERLAND here, from childhood. I thought I might re-read it this evening whenever I get done with what I'm working on now."

"What are you working on?"

"Assembling Easter baskets! I went to see Martha this morning and in addition to outlining a side dish and pudding she wishes to have on our Easter luncheon table next week, she wants to give some people at her place Easter baskets when I pick her up next week. Which means I had to pick up the bits and bobs and the baskets and I've started working on them."

"Well, why tonight? Why not some evening this week?"

"Oh, I have to go to an all-day continuing education thing on Monday and complete some online courses all before the first of April for certification purposes. I figured it's just my best chance to do these tonight."

"I see."

She exhaled, frustrated with herself and with Martha. "Charlie, she's not very well – she has a palsy in her hand, like you only hers is in her left. She has an irregular heart beat, and balance issues which are what really put her in the home in the first place."

"Like vertigo?"

"No, but definitely inner ear related. Anyway, she's got all that going on and yet she keeps soldiering on."

"Sounds a bit like Lady," Charles added, scratching the dog behind her ear. She was curled up on his lap, sleeping contentedly.

"Yes, what I know about Lady, I suppose so."

"And, she doesn't have anyone else, just me, and whilst we had a lovely chat earlier today, she's just a battle axe most of the time and I…I just between Becky and her, I just feel buried under my responsibilities sometimes."

"I'm sure it's difficult, their needs dictating parts of your life. Please know I'm happy to help out if there's ever something I can do. I'd like to know I can ease your burdens."

"Thanks, Charlie, that's kind of you to offer, but in particular, you don't know Martha. She just runs right over everyone, well except for Becky, but mainly me."

"Elsie, don't get angry at me, instead hear me out. You sound like a hypocrite."

"I what?!" Now she was steamed at Charlie.

"Just listen, what did you tell me the other night at dinner that you counsel your clients on?"

She paused, thinking. "Take charge of their lives, get back on track." And paused again. "Ugh, that's Martha calling on the other line now, I should get it."

"Wait! If she was really in trouble, it wouldn't be her calling, now would it?"

"No, it wouldn't be her."

"It would be someone from the assisted living place. But it's not them, it's Martha calling, right?"

"Right."

"So don't pick up, Elsie. Take your own advice and take charge of your life. It may seem like a little thing but little things add up." He sighed, sounding a bit far away, "I know."

"You're right. Thank you for pointing that out to me." She felt a little weight of the world lift off her shoulders. Then she heard the ping indicating a new voicemail and seconds later a new text. "She just texted me, I'm sure she's furious with me."

"So be it, again, just like your clients you, Elsie – what's your middle name?" 

"Mae."

"Elsie Mae Hughes, you have a life to live."

A small smile crept onto her face, he could hear it on his end.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks to you."

"Okay then, about this life, you're going to live a little tomorrow late afternoon into the evening. I'll let you decide if you'd like to do so, but please consider coming to my place before the performance. It starts at 5:45, there'll be a little reception there beforehand with canapés and such, but if you choose to come earlier, I'll have a little wine, cheese, some fruit at my place and –"

"Sounds wonderful. What time?"

"4:00, if that's not too early."

"Should be fine."

"Great. That's settled."

"Just one more thing – what does one wear to the ballet?"

"I don't care what you wear beyond those sparkly shoes. I already know I'm going to have the prettiest woman in the whole place on my arm."

"I'm going to be on your arm?"

"Elsie, it would my great honour and privilege, but you decide. As for what to wear, anything goes, trust me, but I like to dress up a little, show some respect for the performers and all they put into a show. I'm sure I'll have a suit and tie on."

"Your navy suit, the one you wore to the anniversary party?"

"Yes, I was thinking it would be that one. Especially if you'd like it to be."

Thursday night as they were leaving dinner, Elsie only thought Charlie was her boyfriend. They hadn't even seen one another since then and now she was sure he was her boyfriend. "I'll see you at 4:00 tomorrow, Charlie. And thanks for the pep talk."

"You're welcome. Sleep well and see you tomorrow at 4:00."

Elsie hung up her call and looked closer at Martha's text message.

 _Unpacked the Chinese leftovers. Not the usual amount. You are seeing someone!_

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A/N in closing: newsflash, I know _nothing_ about rugby other than it's two teams scrumming on a field trying to head one direction or the other. I didn't try to fool you into thinking otherwise but openly announce I am also more than willing to have a personal tutoring lesson from Jim Carter on the intricacies of the sport. And if we get that far, let's go for private lessons in cricket and synchronized swimming on top of it! My apologies to those who do have a clue about rugby. To all, I hope you enjoyed! If nothing else the "hot buns" (from the bakery) hopefully did it for you.


	17. Chapter 17: Cheshire Cats and Dogs

A/N: Super long chapter...eek but still wanted to post on Sunday.

CECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

Sunday, 25 March 2018

8:30 am

Elsie had fallen asleep last night reading an old, fragile – one might even say 'dog-eared' – copy of Lewis Carroll's ALICE IN WONDERLAND. It was fascinating to her to thumb through the yellowed pages and find notes that the 12-year old version of herself had made in the margins commenting on various underlined passages of the tale. When Elsie woke at 1:00 am, the book upon her chest and reading light on, she marked the page and moved it to her nightstand to finish in the morning.

She had spent the last 30 minutes finishing the book and was totally ready to see not only a stage version of the children's classic but one interpreted in dance. Well, she was almost ready. She needed to figure out what to wear.

Even though she knew exactly what shoes she was going to wear and had a fairly limited wardrobe to choose from, she still spent an enormous chunk of time pulling solid coloured dresses and skirts and tops and jackets and trousers in various combinations from her wardrobe for consideration. She discarded some for being too wintery others too summery, one too business-like and a couple just too snug in the wrong places. When she looked at her bedside clock and realized how ridiculously long this was taking her, she narrowed it to three outfits which she put on and studied herself in the mirror in each. The last one she tried on was the winner, no doubt. It was a fuschia dress with ¾ length sleeves and an asymmetrical collar, boatneck on the left and dropping down to a V at her sternum. It had a subtle tone-on-tone visual texture to it that had at first glance taken it out of the running.

Elsie had bought the dress at an end of season sale last summer; it still had the price tag on it and she was reminded what a steal it had been. It was a little more snug on her bottom than she remembered it being last summer and she wondered how it was that the rest of the world's bottoms got smaller when they walked miles and miles yet hers seemed to get bigger. Maybe just another one of the joys of menopause with her body shape continuing to morph or perhaps simply a few more puddings than normal, between her stress-induced and Charlie-induced indulgence in sweet treats of late. Charlie…she wondered what he was up to this morning.

In fact, he was on a mission. The hot cross buns he'd picked up yesterday morning in Soho were good, but he thought he could do better and was on his way to the bakery in Hampstead. And he had decided to walk the 5+ miles to get there. It would be fun to see the neighbourhoods again and in total it wasn't as far as he'd walked with Elsie last week Sunday. Elsie…he wondered what she was up to this morning.

She was on a mission of her own: digging through her knickers drawer. To wrangle her bottom in so the dress wouldn't ride up in back in an unbecoming way, she knew she needed to wear nude tights rather than the stockings and suspenders she had worn to the anniversary party two weeks ago. She had slipped into the pair she'd worn earlier in the week and while that looked better on the whole of it, the cotton knickers she had on left some lines on her bottom that were similarly less than her best. She dug out from the very back bottom of the drawer her sole thong, stripped off the tights and cotton knickers and tried the strips of fabric on under the tights again. Presto, that's the ticket. Only she was going to have to wash the tights and hope they air-dried sufficiently in the hours before she needed to dress. So she washed and hung those right away.

Elsie also needed to figure out what to do about her bra. No matter the construction, save for racer-backs, she'd been having a recurring problem with her newest bras – one of the straps kept falling down on her upper arm. It was almost as if her collarbones had also changed shape in the last months. In the spirit of putting everything together just right she decided that she just might have to wear her push-up bra to the performance today; there would be no straps to hide under the unusual neckline and although for support and comfort purposes she wouldn't want to wear it for a full day, a few hours gone strapless would probably be just fine today.

Dress, shoes and underthings were all sorted out at last, next she had to contemplate jewelry and any other accessories. But she would do that on her walk. She needed to get out of the house for a while and burn off some of the nervous energy that was building as she thought ahead to the ballet with Charlie.

Unlike Elsie who was fretting about her figure, Charlie was sitting at a small café table inside Hampstead Hearth enjoying a large coffee Melange and a second fresh-out-of-the-oven hot cross bun. Definitely better than the ones he'd bought yesterday in Soho and he thought they would be the perfect little something to bring with him next weekend to Hampshire as a hostess gift so he stood in line again ordering a dozen he intended to pick up Friday afternoon and a selection of fresh water biscuits to serve this afternoon with the fruit and cheese. Although he felt up to it, Charles didn't want to wear himself out from too long a walk today so he rode the Underground back home. But he didn't rule out the possibility of taking another walk to Hampstead and back this pre-Easter week for more of the buns.

By the time Elsie returned from her walk, she had all but decided which drop earrings she would wear this afternoon, no other jewelry or accessories being necessary. She went straight up to her jewelry box, put the earrings in and held the dress up to her figure. Perfect, less is more, isn't that an architectural principle? And Charlie being an architect and all…

The architect was back home from his walk as well and standing in his closet deciding what to wear to the ballet. Even though he knew exactly what suit and shoes he was going to wear, he took some time thoughtfully contemplating his shirts and ties – bow or classic seven fold – and belt or braces. In short order, he opted for his new pale pink hounds tooth shirt and belt and one of his favorite seven folds. It had an architectural graphic pattern, somewhat like his Big Ben shirt that Elsie had liked so much the other evening, and he being an architect and all… He would finish off the look with a pair of his new Happy Socks, the ones with an array of whimsically coloured horizontal stripes on a navy background.

After a light lunch – he wanted to have somewhat of an appetite when Elsie arrived at 4:00 – he sat down with his tablet for some light reading. He thought to check what the critics had to say about ALICE which would be closing in just another week. The dancers, choreography and digital set design were all raved about. He copied the link and sent it to Elsie adding:

 _Sounds like we're in for a great show! Can't wait! Unit 3000_

After a light lunch – she wanted to have somewhat of an appetite when she arrived at Charlie's at 4:00 – she sat down at her laptop for some intensive work reading to be ready for her training on Monday; she anticipated there wouldn't be much of a chance by the time she returned home this evening.

By 2:00 she was in the bathtub, shaving her legs and slowly starting to get ready. By 3:00 he had everything ready in the kitchen and jumped into the shower.

When he returned fully dressed save for his suit jacket, pomaded and spritzed with cologne, he was pleased with how everything was looking, save for the tulips. As orderly as he was in all things and as talented as he considered himself to be in all things design, he had never been able to arrange flowers well and it frustrated him, especially after Alice who was a master at it. She did it so well he never had to be good at it, before the last few years.

When she walked downstairs fully dressed, accessorized and spritzed with perfume, she was pleased with how she looked. As disordered as her life was in all ways and as much as she felt she had no eye for visual details, she was getting better at it, especially the last few years, after Richard, aka "the dick."

3:47 pm

Elsie's taxi arrived and she told the driver her destination: South Bank Tower, Stamford Street. When they arrived there a few minutes later and she walked into the building's lobby it felt different than the last time she had been here, just over a year ago for Thomas and Simon's wedding. She recalled feeling then like she was entering a strange world that she was only passing through briefly. Today as she walked in and took in the beautiful lobby she knew this was the world that Charlie passed through every day. She gave her name to the doorperson who seemed more than a little surprised when she said she was here to see Charlie Carson, Unit 3000.

4:00 pm

Charles's phone rang – she was downstairs! "Mr. Carson, this is Marco at the front desk, Ms. Hughes is here to see you."

"Send her up, please."

"Yes, Mr. Carson." Marco hung up the phone, smiled at her and stood up from behind the desk. "Please follow me, Ms. Hughes," and walked over to the open doors of one of the lifts. He tucked his upper body inside to see the call buttons and pushed 30. Elsie had walked into the lift and turned around to face the doors. "30th floor, Ms. Hughes. Have a good afternoon."

As Charles looked around one last time, everything was in order: water biscuits, fruit and cheese on a platter set out on the kitchen island beside appetizer plates and cocktail napkins. Yet something deep inside him felt a little off, like he had forgotten something, or maybe it was just nerves. Oh well, too late now, he walked to his front door in order to greet her.

Elsie didn't know if it was the swiftness of the lift or nerves, but her stomach felt a little off. Or maybe it was another hot flash; before it was too late, she decided to take off the cape she had worn and was draping it over her arm as the lift doors opened. She was smoothing down the front of her dress as she strode forward out of the lift, unsure of where she was headed next, yet there at 10:00 from where she was, she spotted Charlie, in front of a dark green door looking down as he smoothed out his tie. Already from this distance she could see it's multiple shades of blue accented his navy suit trousers, camel colored shoes and belt, and showed off nicely against his pale pink shirt.

He was so focused on the tie and the lift doors operated so smooth that he didn't even realize the lift had opened until he heard her say his name, "Charlie."

As he turned his head in the direction of the lift, his eyes went from looking down at his tie, over to her tall, sparkly heels and up along her long lower legs, then further up to her knees and north of that her shapely figure in a cheerful fuschia dress. "Beautiful," was the first word that came to mind and he said it aloud albeit partly under his breath – because the sight took his breath away.

She had stopped a half step from him and smiled, "Hi, your shoe delivery has arrived."

"Indeed it has, and then some," his voice trailing off still with breathlessness. He leaned forward and kissed her, this time on alternating cheeks. Again, more progress from their last date. Standing upright again, they were still so close there was no way for him to hide as he looked from her eyes, down to her lips and upper chest and then back again. As he began to smile, she began to blush. With a stronger voice he added, "Elsie how is it you get more beautiful every time I see you?"

"Flatterer. I hate to break it to you, it can't always be. You should have seen me yesterday in my Wellies and Dungaries raking my yard!"

He chuckled and then realized they were both still in the hallway, his backside against the door. "Where are my manners? Elsie, welcome to my home, please come in." He shoved the door open a little more first by pushing on it with his bottom and then his left hand on the handle whilst allowing her to pass.

"30th floor, Mr. Carson quite – " was all she had time to say as she took the first couple steps inside the condominium and saw what she was walking into. "Oh, Charlie!" she turned back around to him and grasped his right hand. This time he did not let go and instead trailed her all the way to the window wall. Her eyes were not locked completely on the view outside, rather, she was scanning around, noticing the artwork, minimalist furniture, splashes of color…everything inside too. And yet she walked all the way to the floor to ceiling window. As she looked out, this time it was she who was breathless, "Oh my God, would you look at this view."

"Let me take your coat and purse," he offered and she handed both over to him by doing nothing more than moving her left arm. Again, she was scanning left to right across the familiar landmarks she knew well but only from very different, typically ground-level perspectives, all revealing themselves as they stretched out below her. The chaos of the street labyrinth was more obvious than she would have dreamed, all dotted with shiny glass and matte brick and the mighty Thames flowing right practically at their feet.

He always enjoyed watching first time visitors take in the view, but none more than Elsie. Watching others reminded him how special the view was, not to be taken for granted; watching Elsie's face light up at his window, not from sunlight but delight, reminded him how special she was becoming to him, not to be taken for granted.

"Wow," was all she could say. Finally, he let his hand drop out of hers and he stepped back, so he could see her and the view, together. She reached up to the glass with the fingertips of her right hand as if she were manually able to adjust the hands on the face of Big Ben.

"Would you like an aperitif?"

"I'm sorry, Charlie, what was that?"

"I asked if you'd like a drink, I have a bottle of Lillet in the refrigerator, or something else if you'd like it. And a few nibbles for us, as advertised," he gestured in the direction of the kitchen.

"Oh, yes, that would be fine." As her gaze followed his gesture around the condominium, her attention was now on the stark white kitchen, dining table…everything, it was unlike anything she had ever seen.

He was now in the kitchen, opening a panel that revealed itself to be hiding a refrigerator, there were no other appliances to be seen, she reasoned they must too be behind other panels. "May I help you?" she offered.

"No, thanks, I'll just be a second."

She didn't mean to be rude, but turned back to the windows. As Charles closed the refrigerator and turned back toward the island and view beyond including Elsie's backside, he nearly dropped the bottle in his hand, not from any palsy but from a long-forgotten stirring in his groin. He safely guided the bottle to the counter, closed his eyes attempting to regain his composure.

"Are you alright, Charlie?" she'd heard the bottle hit the counter.

She sounded alarmed and was louder than before. As he opened his eyes, he saw her striding toward him. Her heels glistening in the daylight pouring in.

He cleared his throat, "Fine, fine. Just something I'd forgotten." He was fine, he was good in fact.

"Charlie, your place is incredible. When you said Alice had designed it, I presume you mean all of it."

"Yes, entirely."

"You said she was good at her craft, I see that now. It's simply stunning."

"Here you go, Elsie," he handed her a glass of Lillet, the wedge of orange balancing on its rim. In the transfer from him to her, their fingers touched, briefly.

As he was still distracted by the stirring in his pants, he was more than a little off in the wrong direction of thought when she asked, "What does it look like at night?"

"I'm sorry?" he asked in clarification.

"The view, what does it look like at night?"

Oh, that. "Um, well, honestly it looks like the print on my tie." He held it (the tie) out for her. "The navy colour of the sky, the darker blue colours of the buildings, layered in front of one another and dotted with lights, that's what it looks like."

"Nice. Must be incredible."

"Yes, it is. Here let's sit down." He had picked up the plates and napkins and was moving them to the living room. She followed him there and took a seat on the armless sofa. Charles returned to the kitchen bringing along the slate platter that he had arranged the food on. He placed it down on the coffee table before taking a seat in one of the chairs to Elsie's left, facing the window. He was charmed again by her now crossed legs and sparkly shoes.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Ah, we bought in mid-2012, Alice worked on the design into 2013 while I concentrated on downsizing and selling our house. We moved in very late 2013 and Alice's surgery was May of 2014. She died on 10 January 2015."

"Oh. My birthday is the 11th. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to change the subject."

"No, let's. Did you get my text with the review about, well, ALICE?"

"I did, I skimmed it on the ride over. Sounds like they liked it."

"Yes. You can read in the car? I could never do that – motion sickness." By now, Charles's stirring had subsided and they were in easy banter about the ballet and other topics.

4:40 pm

Charles looked at his watch and realized he needed to take Lady out now before they left. He excused himself and stepped into the bedroom, which really wasn't a room, there was simply a tall, solid back bookshelf facing the living room, and on the opposite side the headboard for his bed.

Elsie realized how close the sleeping area was as she could hear Charles as he woke Lady from her own bed just around the corner.

"Today may be all about ALICE IN WONDERLAND but here is my little sleeping beauty," Charles said as he came back into the living room, there again being no door between these two sections of the space.

"Hello, Lady, oh, you are so sleepy." The dog yawned wide as Charles stopped beside Elsie long enough for her to pet the dog in his arms.

Then, pointing down to Elsie's shoes, Charles added, "I'm guessing you don't want to go with us. It will just be a few minutes. We need to be downstairs at 5:00 for our ride. You're welcome to stay here."

"I will, thank you."

He was walking toward the front door. "Make yourself at home. I'll put things away when I come back up."

She had stood up and was following him, "Let me do that, save you a couple minutes."

"I feel badly, you're my guest."

"I don't mind Charlie, just tell me where you want things."

He had put the dog down and stepped between the island and refrigerator. "Um, the grapes can say out, other fruit and cheese go in the containers, you'll see them inside the fridge, and the water biscuits, there's a container for them, in here." He opened another panel three down to the left from the refrigerator, revealing a series of built in shelves. "Thanks for your help, I'll be right back."

Without even thinking, he kissed her on the cheek as he turned toward Lady and the front door. It felt so natural, Elsie didn't even think anything of it either. Then he was around the corner and as she headed back to the living room area, she didn't hear Charles digging out Lady's leash, just the front door closing behind the two of them. She made two trips between the kitchen and living room carrying things back. A part of her was scared to death to drop anything. She was always a little wobbly on her tall pointy heels anyway and the slate platter itself was quite heavy and she could not see her feet as she walked.

She had things put away very quickly, finding the kitchen especially orderly and intuitive in its layout. She poked around at the two panels between the pantry and refrigerator and found they indeed hid a wall oven, cooktop, counter and cabinets. She didn't know what to do next, it felt a little awkward to be alone in someone's home like this. She was growing accustomed to the view by now and didn't feel the need to step up to the windows again. She roamed around a little, poking her head into what she recognized was the butler's pantry, another door across the front hallway was obviously a den, its blackout shades closed. She wandered back into the dining area, designated by nothing more than the round table with chairs. She guessed it would comfortably seat six, maybe eight though there were four chairs around its perimeter right now, his jacket draped over one of the backrests. She ran her hand over the smooth material of its shoulders.

There was a round bowl with tulips in it, white and purple that in all honesty, compared to the rest of the place, weren't quite up to the standard. She pulled the bowl over toward the table's edge, studied the flowers some and adjusted a few on the outside so that those in the center would stand more upright. It made all the difference she thought and pushed the bowl back to the center of the table.

"We're back!" She saw Charles tuck into the butler's pantry whilst Lady stayed put in the entry hall, unleashed. As he came into view again he continued, "Not rifiling through my pants drawer were you? I'm kidding...I just have to fill up Lady's water bowl and put her in her kennel, wash my hands and then grab my jacket and we can head downstairs." He paused his steps and talking for a moment, looked at Elsie who was now leaning against his kitchen island. He smiled broadly and said again, "Beautiful," before hurrying on his way with the dog toward the laundry room meaning he didn't see her blush.

Elsie heard the faintest hint of running water and then Charles was walking toward her again. As he passed by the kitchen island toward the dining table where he picked up and started to put on his jacket, he said, "Thanks, it looks like you found where everything goes."

"Aye, Charlie."

He verified the ballet tickets were in the breast pocket and had just buttoned the middle of the three buttons on his jacket when he asked, "Okay, ready to go to Wonderland, Elsie?"

She walked toward him, replying, "I am, but you, not quite."

By the expression on his face, including furrowed brows, it was clear he wasn't certain what she was speaking of until she stepped closer and reached both arms up around his neck to fix his collar that wasn't quite laying correctly. Then her hands came down and rested so her fingertips were at the crest of his collarbones, "There you go, Charlie."

He hummed a bar of sweet joy before adding, "Thank you, my dear. Now, let's go!"

My dear – Elsie thought that came out effortlessly as well, as she started to follow him toward the door.

Charles locked up behind them and then helped Elsie on with her cape that he'd grabbed from the coat closet in the entry.

The inside of the lift doors were slightly mirrored and highly polished. He could somewhat see their combined reflection in the doors and thought they together made quite an attractive couple.

As they strode into the lobby, Marco did a double-take. It was rare for Mr. Carson to be with anyone and here he was dressed to the nines together with his visitor Ms. Hughes and, together, looking quite attractive.

As they stepped outside, Ran'dall the driver greeted them both and held the rear door open for her. Charles gave Elsie a hand as well as she took her seat behind the driver, affording him the bonus of seeing her knee up close again. Just before he shut the door, he smiled at her, "You best get used to me saying this; you really do look beautiful."

Charles got into the back seat on the other side, praising the car service situation and engaging in conversation with Ran'dall who inquired what performance they were off to see. When Charles said ALICE IN WONDERLAND, Ran'dall said his young daughter loved the book.

On the way, Charles explained that although they were headed to the English National Ballet building, they were not in the main performance hall. His tickets were in the smaller, 300 seat Lurie theatre. He liked the intimacy of it better there. As they arrived, Ran'dall helped Elsie out of the vehicle. She was feeling like quite the princess. As Charles came around to her side, he offered her his elbow, at first she was confused and so he clarified, "I told you I would have the prettiest woman in the whole place on my arm." And in that moment, building off of all she'd experienced until now with Charlie, Elsie knew right then that she was falling in love with this man.

The lobby was crowded with people of all ages. He guided them to the far side of the theatre where there was a small sign on display that read:

Season Ticket Holders, Pre-Performance Reception

A gentleman dressed whimsically as The Mad Hatter stationed near the sign recognized him, "Good evening, Mr. Carson," and opened the door for them. "Come on through the looking glass!"

"Thank you," Charles and Elsie said in unison.

Inside, there were another 15-16 people mingling about, drinks in hand and another couple of people behind a makeshift bar. The place was not very brightly lit and there was extra lighting and equipment all around. Clearly, this was normally some sort of a storage space.

Looking over at her, Charles asked, "Elsie, would you like a drink?"

"Scotch and soda, please."

"Wait right here for me, or you can grab a little something to eat." He gestured over to where she could see the canapés were that he'd mentioned previously. Charles stood in line briefly as Elsie did survey the food spread before fixing a small plate with a few different things. Then, two drinks in hand, Charles returned to her side handing her the glass highball. "Cheers to Cheshire Cats and Elsie's first ballet." He held his own tumbler up and they clinked their glasses. "What do you have there?"

She held the plate up, making clear that she was offering whatever he wanted (on the plate, for now), "Oh, olives, hummus, veg, and couple little lemon squares. What did you order?"

"Scotch, neat," he replied taking one of the lemon squares. He really did have a sweet tooth. Licking his fingers of the powdered sugar, he hummed his satisfaction. "Far better than that candy floss you can get at the concession stand."

"Careful now, I love candy floss – Becky too!"

Charles looked at her like she had grown a second head. "If you want candy floss, I will buy you candy floss, though I find it repulsive, especially the blue kind. Turns your lips and tongue all blue."

"Oh blue's the best," she teased. "So what's this space we're in?" she asked.

"Part of the props department, kind of their maker studio when sets are being constructed. Storage mainly thereafter and then a reception space for season ticket holders before performances."

"Makes you really feel a part of things," she marveled, looking around the room. "Charlie, how long have you had your tickets?"

"Oh, six, seven years, I suppose."

"And were you always a ballet fan?"

"Casually, the sets were where my interest lay originally. I worked in the drama department during University some in the set studio. It was fun. I still remember those days and years later when the ballet contacted me about the building restoration project they had going on, well that re-engaged me. I got the job and in the end as part of the contract negotiations I asked for a couple seasons' worth of tickets – good seats, got to pick them myself. Alice and I started attending and we liked it and so I kept the seats, even after she died. It's only 5 performances a year and I can also pick the dates. If I don't use them, I donate them to charity."

"I didn't realize you'd worked on the building."

"Yes, still do on occasion. One of those clients that I have a hard time saying no to. I don't need the money, but it's fun, it's important, and the seats are still in the deal. Oh, we should be going, take our seats." He downed the last of his scotch and put the glass down on the tray of a service staff member who came by. Elsie added her glass and the plate. Before she knew it, Charles had her gently by the elbow and was guiding her out of the reception and back into the lobby.

His hand was toasty warm on her skin, prompting her to comment, "Charlie that was smart of you to order your scotch neat, keep your hand warm, mine's just freezing right now from holding my highball with the ice."

He looked back at her, "I wish that were the case. I ordered mine neat out of fear of spilling it in my shaky hand, or distracting our conversation with the ice hitting the sides of the glass."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed that your palsy was acting up today."

"No, not the palsy." He waggled his eyebrows. "Nervous lad with a pretty lass on his arm."

By now they were inside the theatre and had each been handed a program. Charles led the way to the 4th row – so close to the stage, Elsie thought! As there were other audience members in their seats, Charles stepped forward into the row whilst reaching behind him for her hand. She followed him to their seats, both excusing themselves as they passed the other patrons. Charles stopped when they were at center stage. "Here we are. Let me help you with your cape."

"Charlie, these seats are incredible. Why, I would have been thrilled to be up there in that last row in the far corner, but here?"

"Nothing but the best Elsie, when you're with Charlie Carson!" He gestured down to her seat and sat down in his on the left.

"Let's see who all's in this performance," Charles thumbed through the program, Elsie following suit adding her reading glasses. She happened to land on the page that listed donors and sponsors and happened to find Charles's name listed along with CHAP, Ltd. after it. "Charlie, what's this?"

"What's what?" He looked over at her program, unable to read the small print. "I can't read that, what are you pointing to?"

"Your name in the donor's list. What's CHAP, Ltd.?"

"That's my business, Carson Historic Architectural Preservations, Ltd."

"Clever, chap."

Just then the stage announcer came on the loudspeaker to make mention that recording of the performance in any form was prohibited, that mobile phones should be turned off, etc. Charles and Elsie both pulled their phones out and turned them to airplane mode, Elsie noting a one word text from Martha after she'd sent one this morning confirming her suspicions.

 _Yes, I am. None of your business_ , Elsie had written.

Martha's retort said: _YET!_

The announcements concluded with mention that the role of the March Hare would be played by a particular dancer, Morey Teasley, in today's performance.

"Oh Morey, he's good. He's been in the company for a few years," Charles whispered to her as the house lights dimmed and the audience applauded.

Momentarily, Elsie could see figures scampering behind the sheer curtain as dancers took their places. And before she knew it, the music began, lights were projected on the screen which rose and she and the rest of the audience were transported down a rabbit hole into Wonderland.

The dancers and their whimsical costumes came to life and she was delighted by the whole spectacle unfolding in front of them. "Oh, Charlie," he heard her say as she reached for his right hand that had been resting on the seat beside his leg. He looked over at her and even in the darkened theatre could see that her smile was broader than the painted-on smile of the dancer portraying the Cheshire Cat who had just arrived on stage.

Elsie, sensing Charles looking over at her squeezed his hand, a non-verbal sign of how much she was enjoying this experience not even two minutes into the performance. It made him smile too – to see her at his side, so happy, and to feel her hand on his. He then moved his hand, threading his fingers between hers and stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. They remained that way for the entirety of the first act, save for whenever they joined the rest of the audience in applauding the performances.

As Act 1 came to an end, their hands separated for the longest they had in the previous 40 minutes as applause continued and the house lights came up. "So, do you like it?" Charles asked as he turned and studied her face, noticing just then that she was wiping a tear from her eye. He reached into his jacket and handed her his handkerchief to wipe it away.

"Charlie, I honestly didn't know what to expect, I mean dancing and music yes, but my God, so close I can actually _hear_ the dancers' feet as they hit the floorboards! And all the dancers, I can feel the fun they appear to be having. It all makes me so happy, thank you for bringing me."

He nodded, taking the handkerchief back. He was happy she was happy.

"Yes, you're right about all that and I think the lighting is some of the best they've ever done. Ingo is the new lighting director, he moved here from an Opera in Germany and he's really done some creative things. And the performers, wow, they give it their all don't they?"

"I wonder with the couple playing Tweedledum and Tweedledee, how much of their dance work was under the direction of the choreographer versus their own improvisation. They seem to especially be having fun!"

"Good question. Perhaps you can ask Sebastian – he's Tweedledum to Nadalie's Tweedledee."

"You talk as if you know them."

"A little, yeah, there'll be an after-performance reception as well for the season ticket holders and such. Some of the dancers will be there and mingling. Those two have been in the company for a few years and I have spoken with both. I thought we'd stick around for that tonight. It's the main reason why I took Lady out for that last walk, to buy us some time at the end. Let's go out to the lobby for a few minutes, I'll show you around the building."

They went out amongst the crowd, Charles pointing out the rehearsal studios and other insider details.

"Charlie, where's the ladies toilet? I might not make it another 40 minutes."

"End of the hallway. I wanted you to be sure to go in there anyway. Look up, as you're exiting the lavatory."

When she came back a few minutes later, she walked straight to him. "The stained glass. Just like in Battersea last week, the outbuilding there."

"MmmHmm."

"Did you have anything to do with the ones here?" The waggling of his eyebrows was all the answer she needed.

There was a photographer set up with silly hats and other props with ties to ALICE. She beckoned them over for a photo for the ballet's social media page. Charles was inclined to decline but Elsie thought it would be fun and only take a second. She rummaged through the props unable to decide between "Tweedle" goggles and foam yellow crowns with red glittery hearts on them.

"Go for the crown, Elsie, the heart matches your shoes!"

"I'll say, and they're great shoes by the way!" the photographer was setting up her pro shot while Charles took one of Elsie with his phone also.

"Get in here with me, Mr. Carson."

"No, Elsie."

"Please, it's for the ballet."

"She's right," the photographer added. Together they shamed Charles into joining Elsie and they donned both the goggles AND King and Queen of Heart's crowns.

"Take one of us together with my phone too, please," Elsie asked the photographer who obliged.

The five minute notification to curtain sounded and Charles was glad to take off the silly props in the name of returning to the theatre. As he took the goggles off, a lock of his hair came loose without his realizing it. Elsie got his attention and with her right hand she reached up to his forehead and brushed back the lock that had fallen loose. He sighed in recognition, "That happens all the time."

"I think it's cute."

"Yes, well, as I recall, you thought the name Shrimpie was cute the first time I met you. Let's go, I don't want us to be late."

They returned to their seats and enjoyed the second act even more than the first. Whilst they started out holding hands again, there were too many applause interruptions for it to be sensible to continue. Besides, Elsie was on the front edge of her seat following along with every twist and turn prompting Charles to sit back in his seat and actually slouch down a bit, affording him the ability to keep an eye on the stage at times and Elsie at others - and it helped the shorter-statured persons seated immediately behind Charles.

As the storyline built to the crescendo of the trial for the The Knave of Hearts, the audience was laughing at the King of Hearts's hysterical turns as he dropped his trousers and other nonsense. As the "King" was lying on his back on the stage in nothing but bright red tights from the waist down, Elsie leaned over to Charles and whispered in his ear, "That's you; I have photographic proof on my phone!"

In mock consternation whilst rolling his eyes, Charles whispered back, "Don't say you're going off me, Elsie."

"No. Because you're my curmudgeon, Charlie."

Although the people behind them shushed Charles and Elsie at that point, her witty retort caused him to sit up a little straighter in his seat, charmed and thrilled to be considered Elsie's curmudgeon.

As the curtain fell, all we're on their feet and remained standing as the cast took their bows.

She leaned over to him, "Charlie, I loved it! The mental image I have always had of the ballet was beautiful but stern and precise. So I don't know how much of this is this particular performance but please know I have thoroughly enjoyed myself tonight. Thank you." At the last bit, she put her hand on his forearm.

"Good, I'm glad. They were very good tonight, but that's not unusual. But remember, we have another reception to go to, so let's head that way," he pointed over her shoulder and then, touching her waist with his other hand, he turned her around. She walked to where there was a backup of people in the row and stopped to eventually merge. At this point, Charles put his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward as she spoke to him again. Once more, they were behaving not as a newly dating couple but in many respects as ones who had been married for a number of years - as one fellow patron mistook them for at the reception. And yes, Elsie did have the chance to ask the Tweedledee and Tweedledum dancers her improv question, learning they were indeed given a great deal of license in interpreting their characters.

8:10 pm

Although reluctant on the one hand for the night to end, Charles knew that Elsie had a big and full work day tomorrow, the reception was winding down with the bar already closed, and their ride was due back in just five minutes.

They exited the theatre as they had entered, with Elsie on Charles's arm. He had just helped Elsie into the SUV when Isobel Crawley - herself on the arm of Dickie Grey and waiting in the taxi line - thought she recognized him through the thinning crowd. She saw he was with a woman, that was clear by the brief glimpse she caught of a lower leg and killer shoes inside the SUV in the theatre's driveway, but nothing more of his companion. But it was very definitely Charles Carson as she soon caught an unobstructed quick view of his face whilst he walked around the back of the vehicle. "I'll be damned. You go, Charles!" Dickie asked what she had said, he hadn't heard her clearly.

In the vehicle on the ride back to the South Bank Tower, Charles reached out and tentatively laid his hand on Elsie's knee. Of course she noticed, and didn't mind it which she expressed wordlessly to him by way of a smile and her resting her hand on top of his same forearm. Ran'dall could see what was happening in his rearview mirror. Being a veteran of the service industry, however, he knew discretion was key and so while he, like Isobel Crawley, cheered on Charles's advancements, he didn't let anyone including the two people in his back seat know he'd even noticed.

As they approached the building's driveway, Charles reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet, extracting a 10 pound note. By now, Ran'dall had put the transmission in Park. Charles scooted forward on the seat, the note in his hand and addressed the driver.

"Ran'dall, would you be able to take Ms. Hughes here home?" he switched his gaze to Elsie.

"Of course, Mr. Carson, I'd be happy to."

Charles handed the young man the note and thanked him. Then he turned toward Elsie who swallowed hard, wondering how Charles would end this WONDERful date. She had her answer when he took her left hand in his own, raised it to his lips, kissing the back of her hand and adding. "Goodnight you queen of my heart - I have photographic proof on my phone!" He let her hand down gently then opened his door and slid himself out.

Facing into the vehicle, left hand on the top of the doorframe, Charles leaned in one last time. "Let me know when you get home safe." At that, he stepped back, shut the door and stood there motionless. As the vehicle started to pull away, Charles raised his arm, hand extended, but he did not wave. Elsie did however, whilst biting down on her lower lip.

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A/N: Thanks for tuning in. Guaranteeing this Friday will indeed be a Good Friday with the promise of Chelsie's first kiss!

Also, a nod to a 25 Feb 2018 Opinion piece by Katherine Rundell in the NY Times that provided inspiration for Elsie's reaction to the view of London from Unit 3000.

Finally, their night at the ballet was inspired by my own attendance of an ALICE ballet performance, complete with the receptions and the exact same conversation with Tweedledum, though regrettably, my evening was absent a curmudgeon. :(


	18. Chapter 18: Courage of Lassie

A/N: Chapter title is one of the many LASSIE movies, and there's a subtle nod to Phyllis Logan's newest series, GIRLFRIENDS, herein. Enjoy!

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On the lift ride upstairs Sunday night after the ballet, Charles had added Elsie's Queen of Hearts photo to her Contact profile in his phone. Once inside the condominium and lights on, he had noticed the tulips on his dining table right away and realized Elsie must have rearranged them.

A few minutes later, Elsie called to let him know she had arrived home safely. It happened to be whilst Charles was himself outside with Lady; he walked and they talked. She confirmed her floral rearranging, hoping he didn't mind. When he acknowledged they looked much better and thanked her, Elsie added with a laugh that the job had kept her out of his pants drawer.

She thanked him again for their evening at the ballet and gushed that she had loved it ALL! Ran'dall had even put the hazard lights on and walked her to her door.

Elsie mentioned again her Monday workshop and that she needed to, unfortunately, cut their call short in order to address some prep work. He didn't want to hang up just yet and inquired what the workshop was for and where it was being held.

Elsie told him it was the Community of Licensed Therapists, or COLT. It caught his attention more than she anticipated as he explained that, being the son of a groom, one of his childhood nicknames had been Colt.

She admitted they would probably be holed up all day in a dark, windowless 'stable' at the Lombard House Hotel from 9:00 am – 7:00 pm. Accordingly, she had made arrangements with her next door neighbour to let Igor out twice during the next day.

The last thing that Charles did yet before preparing for bed Sunday night was take a selfie holding his ALICE IN WONDERLAND program. He did so mainly to send to Sybbie as he always did after the ballets, but unlike previous photos he had immediately deleted, this selfie he kept, reasoning that he considered it a pivotal night in his life and he wanted to preserve the memory.

After he had climbed into bed, Charles returned his attention to his phone to study the photo of him and Elsie in their ALICE props. He himself turned into the Cheshire Cat as he extinguished the light and curled his large body into a ball under the covers.

After the spectacle of the ballet, Monday's big, static beige hotel banquet room hosting the workshop was a total let down to Elsie. That is, until an unexpected floral delivery arrived just after luncheon for Ms. Elsie Hughes, the hotel bellman apologizing to the instructor for the delivery interruption. It was a beautiful, multi-coloured arrangement of tulips and the card was signed,

 _Hope these brighten your day in the stable. - CC (Colt the Curmudgeon)_

Elsie blushed, not just at the gesture but at the envy she felt from every one of the other 20+ women in the workshop; the handful of men there expressed juxtaposed kudos and grumblings to her chap behind the flowers.

At the next break, Elsie attempted to thank her curmudgeon with a phone call but it went to Charles's voicemail, his deep baritone recorded voice quickening her pulse as it instructed her to leave a message. In fact, Elsie had called whilst Charles was out walking and he didn't hear or feel the incoming call. It was the first of three days this week he would go for an hours long walk; he knew Elsie was building toward some sort of long charity walk in May and he had decided after Sunday's date he was keen on supporting her in her charitable efforts and perhaps even joining the walk.

But he mentioned none of this in their short check-in phone calls as the week continued. Elsie was the one calling him typically whilst taking mental breaks from the online courses she was immersed in, including mindless online videos followed by exams about the videos. When he inquired why she didn't do this all from home, the answer she gave was two-fold: she had to honour a handful of client appointments and her office was hardwired - a necessity for the videos to stream uninterrupted.

The last of the 2018 licensing requirements Elsie had to complete before the week was out was a once-every-three-year oral exam/ interview via video conference. That was scheduled for Friday late afternoon; she'd somehow charmed the scheduler into an additional and very last possible time slot available before the three-person panel of evaluators' Easter holiday weekends began. Again, she planned to do the VC from her office in order to have a professional looking backdrop.

3:20 pm

For a change, it was Charles who phoned Elsie today. He had just eaten two hot cross buns with his afternoon tea in advance of departing for his 4:00 appointment with Isobel and knew Elsie had her interview call coming up at 4:00 as well. He wanted an update on Elsie's progress overall, to encourage her in advance of the interview and, above all, to invite her out to dinner tonight.

"Dinner? Happy hour seems more necessary if not preferable to dinner right now, Charlie. Besides, Fridays are always the busiest night in the restaurant industry and on this holiday weekend, tonight is likely to be especially so." She could hear the disappointment in his voice when he admitted, after not seeing her for five days, he had been looking forward to dinner out. She reassured him, "We'll figure something out for tonight after I'm all done with the interview, just low key."

"What time do you expect to be done?"

"Should be by quarter of five." Elsie's trust had built significantly in the last week, so much so that she boldly suggested, "Maybe you'd like to see my office."

Charles fleetingly thought to himself that he'd prefer to see some things of hers beyond her office. Clearing his throat at the thought, however, he responded in a gentlemanly way, "Sure, I'd like that. I have a 4:00 appointment down south. That will go until about 5:00. And I can meet you after that. Just text me your office address."

Elsie did one better, taking a screen shot of a map with a pin on her building, adding _Suite 2C_ in the accompanying text.

Still hoping to take Elsie to dinner, and presuming he would be home later, Charles arranged for someone from the concierge team to let Lady out about 6:30. He opted to walk, again, to Isobel's, and though he saw Elsie's text come in just after leaving South Bank Tower, he didn't have his reading glasses on. Not wanting to be late to the appointment, he decided to wait until he was at Isobel's to read the map.

He had barely sat down in the waiting area when Isobel poked her head out of the treatment room, "Come on back, Charles."

"Hello, Isobel. You're looking well."

Looking him over quickly from head to toe, Isobel replied, "And you it seems. Yes, very definitely. How have you been feeling?"

"Very well, it's been three plus weeks, you know. Only in the last couple of days has the hand started to be a little shaky again. Clearly, you have the magic touch."

"Well, I don't know as I should take all the credit," she winked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Charles raised his right eyebrow in question.

Isobel wasn't one to beat around the bush. "You haven't had an appointment for three weeks, but I've seen you in the meantime, Charles."

"Sorry? I'm not following you."

"Charles, I was at the ballet on Sunday evening."

"Oh?" A million thoughts flooded his mind.

"ALICE IN WONDERLAND. I saw you there as well, or at least saw you in the theatre driveway afterward." Charles stiffened, holding his breath. "And the woman you were with –her legs anyway. Quite attractive." Charles remembered those legs fondly. "I presume she's the woman you met and mentioned the last time you were in, yes?" Charles acknowledged she was. "You looked quite proud and happy on Sunday." Charles's face had morphed from pensive to glowing in the course of listening to these last few sentences. Covering his hand with hers whilst raising the corners of her own mouth in a smile, Isobel added, "I'm very glad for you, Charles, truly." Resuming her professional detachment, "Now tell me, how's your hand?"

Oh, who was she kidding? Charles was more than a patient to Isobel, so when she returned to the room to begin the needling he'd come in for, she continued the conversation about Charles's mystery woman. He told her a little bit about Elsie – her first name, profession, their four dates and three chance meetings before then. Isobel couldn't resist testing the strength of the relationship in her own unique way; she needled him on Urinary Bladder point 18. Unlike a month ago when he screamed loud enough to be heard in Manchester, this time his back barely twitched when the needle broke the skin. In that moment, Isobel knew this Elsie was the real magic.

His treatment concluded, Charles stood opposite the front desk as Isobel ran his credit card for payment. His fingers were on the screen of his phone and reading glasses on when he asked, haltingly, "Isobel, remind me please, what is the address here?"

"7960 Ripon Street, Suite 3C," she replied without looking up.

"No!" This time Isobel did look up, startled by his reply as Charles continued incredulously, "Isobel, it's Elsie. She's right downstairs! My word!"

"What do you mean she's right downstairs? I thought you said you're going to her office after this."

He was shaking his head in disbelief. "I am, her _office_ is right downstairs - 2C!" He held his phone so Isobel could read the screen. "Come down with me, let me introduce you."

Isobel needed little persuading, she was more than curious to meet this Elsie. As they were the last ones in her office in the hours before the holiday weekend, Isobel locked up and followed Charles down one flight of stairs, though barely keeping up with his long and excited strides.

Charles navigated the last corner before zeroing in on the glass front door that he knew was right below Isobel's. He stopped abruptly when he could clearly read the screen-printed letters on the glass:

E. M. Hughes MSW, LCSW, MFT

My word, she practically had an alphabet after her name! It made him proud of her just to read the credentials, though he needed a moment to think through what they all meant, based on what she'd told him previously. It was in that time that Isobel now arrived at his side. Slowly running his index finger under all those letters, Charles turned to Isobel with elevated eyebrows as if to make sure she was impressed. And then he knocked on the glass and immediately, both could hear loud barking. Igor turned an interior corner and continued barking whilst bounding toward the door. Charles of course recognized the dog and was not intimidated though Igor did prompt Isobel to flinch. Momentarily, Elsie turned the same corner around which Igor had just come. At first she had a confused look on her face that quickly lit up as she saw Charlie on the other side of the glass. A woman in a lab coat was standing to his right. Elsie grabbed Igor by the collar, admonishing him to be quiet and reached for the doorknob with her other hand. "Charlie, how did you get here so quickly?" I was not expecting you for 15 or 20 minutes yet, easily." Charles pecked her on the cheek, "Hello Elsie, I was upstairs." Standing up and turning toward Isobel, he continued. "Elsie, I'd like you to meet my acupuncturist – and dear friend – Isobel Crawley. Her office is right upstairs from yours." The women shook hands and exchanged the standard new acquaintance pleasantries. Isobel added that it was so nice to meet another neighbour in their professionals building and that she always took the lift and had no idea of the tenants from other floors, she barely knew those upstairs with her on floor 3. Elsie clarified that she's been in the building for less than a year and similarly, barely knew any of the tenants on her floor. Throughout all this, Charles was playing with Igor, who jumped up on him at one point. Eventually, Charles was able to command the dog to stand still though it wasn't easy. At that point, Charles introduced Isobel to Igor who sniffed her hand. When she scratched him behind the ear, the dog collapsed in a heap on the floor, eager for a tummy rub. "Enough, Igor. You needn't be showing yourself off like that. Sorry," explained his mortified owner.

Conversation quickly turned to their respective Easter plans with Isobel acknowledging she would be a guest of others - though Charles noticed she cleverly did not specify whom exactly; Charles mentioning Hampshire, Elsie hosting Martha and her sister Becky. Isobel asked if Becky was married or had children and Elsie clarified that her sister had special needs, so no. Isobel built on that adding that her boyfriend, Richard, was a primary care physician for adults with developmental disabilities.

"Surely not Richard Clarkson?" Elsie asked and Isobel confirmed the second "small world" moment of the last few minutes as Dr. Clarkson was indeed Becky's physician! Although Elsie had noticeably stiffened when just the name Richard was mentioned, she eased up now; she and Becky both liked their fellow Scot. In fact, Elsie had recommended Dr. Clarkson to her best friend Phyllis Baxter-Molesley for her and Joe's 20-something adopted daughter Brittany, who was now one of Becky's "roommates."

Elsie was making a very good first impression on Isobel to the point where when Isobel asked about their plans for this evening and Charles and Elsie both looked at one another in indecision, Isobel invited them to join her and Richard for dinner at his place. "The restaurants are going to be packed, you know."

Charles re-entered the conversation finally, adding, "That is exactly what Elsie had said earlier."

"Oh, do join us. It will be low key but fun and tasty, I promise. Richard's a wonderful cook."

Elsie and Charles looked at one another again, she had wanted something low key and tasty was always good. Before either of them committed, Isobel continued. "He's big into a Mediterranean diet, so I know he's making hummus and a fattoush salad and has baklava. I was to pick up pita bread and falafel. While I like falafel, I'm a carnivore! If you join us, I can legitimately add some chicken – or lamb – shawarma, to the order, yes? He's been driving me nuts these last few weeks of Lent; I am craving a big, greasy burger!"

Of course, Isobel had an ulterior motive; she wanted every chance she could get to know Elsie better.

Other than not being alone together, which neither voiced aloud, neither Charles nor Elsie could come up with a legitimate reason to decline the invitation – and so they said yes. Isobel was delighted. She knew the Mediterranean grill she planned to pick up their food from and that it was on the way to Richard's. She suggested if they could wait 15 minutes for her she would return upstairs, phone Richard to let him know of the doubling of their dinner party and take care of a few end of the month bits of business. Then they could all three walk over together.

Elsie pointed out that she at least needed to bring Igor home first and from what Isobel was describing, that was in the opposite direction. Isobel classified that as nonsense, Richard being the dog lover wouldn't mind in the least if Igor came along. Elsie recalled that he did indeed always give some added attention to Violet whenever Becky had an appointment but still she felt a bit uncomfortable. "Richard has a fenced in yard, if there's a problem, Igor can go outside."

At last, all was sorted and settled; Isobel was running upstairs to take care of her other things as quickly as possible and then return to walk over with them. As soon as the door was shut behind Isobel, Charles reached for Elsie's hand, "It's been a long week, Elsie, I've missed seeing you."

"Me too," she acknowledged.

Charles studied her face, she looked tired but he wasn't about to say that. "Are you going to show me around the office?"

"Ten pence tour, sure." They held hands throughout the short tour that began in the waiting area, next into the back office – sink, disposable cups, hot water kettle, a stack of chairs in the corner, and finally Elsie's inner office. There was a desk and desk chair at an angle in the far left corner, 3-seat sofa backed up against the opposite wall, a coffee table in front of the sofa and an armchair between the desk and sofa. Near the door was a dog bed, which Charles reasoned probably explained why Igor was so far ahead of Elsie into the waiting area when he and Isobel had arrived. In all, the office was nice, the furniture approachable if somewhat eclectic.

Elsie had stopped right inside the doorway, allowing Charles to walk in further on his own. She was nibbling on her lower lip, concerned about how he might judge her old furniture after what she'd seen at his place on Sunday evening.

He strolled around, peeked out the window in the far wall; not much of a view he realized. Then he stopped and turned around, seeing Elsie in her environment. It pleased him to be able to picture where she'd spent her long week and smiled his approval at being in her midst again. He walked over to the sofa and sat down, assessing the comfort of the cushions. Next thing she knew, he had pivoted 90 degrees and stretched his long frame out on the sofa, making sure his feet extended beyond the far armrest so as not to get his shoes on the fabric. What in the world was he doing, she wondered?

"So, how does this work, you sit over there and your client lies down on the sofa like this?"

Elsie just shook her head - stereotypes. "No," pointing to the armchair she added, "I sit here and the client sits up on the sofa. Or if there's more than one person, they might sit on the sofa together."

Sitting up again, Charles requested, "Pretend I'm a new client, Elsie. Give me a sense of how the therapy process works."

For the first time all week, Elsie's stress was absent. She sat down in the armchair and looked at him for a moment. He was being serious. She quickly decided she could do this. So she turned and picked up a notepad and pen from her desk and placed her reading glasses on the end of her nose. Turning back around toward him, she cleared her throat and then, as if an imaginary clapperboard came down in front of them, she went into character.

"Mr. Carson, is it?" Charles nodded, assuming his role as well. "What brings you in today?"

"Well, Dr. Hughes – "

"I'm not a doctor."

"Elsie?"

"Call me Ms. Hughes."

"Well, Ms. Hughes…I'm having trouble with a lass."

"Oh?" She looked down, pretending as if she were noting that in the file.

"My girlfriend." Elsie lifted her head swiftly, a look of shock in her eyes at what he'd just said; he couldn't have been any more explicit.

She took a moment to swallow and reply, "Your girlfriend? Aren't you a little old to have a girlfriend?"

"No, I'm middle aged. And, she makes me feel young."

"I see. That sounds like a good thing. Help me understand where the problem lies."

"Ah, you see, she won't let me take her out to dinner on a Friday night."

"I'm sorry Mr. Carson, it's been a long day. I'm not yet following. That's a problem…because?"

"I'm trying to woo her."

"Oh." Elsie's heart was beating faster now. She was anxious to continue their little game and feeling somewhat adventuresome. "Have you tried other things – that is, besides dinner out on a Friday night to 'woo' her as you say?"

"Indeed. Walks in the park, a night at the ballet. I've also given her flowers – twice."

"That's very sweet of you. Hmmm. How about blue candy floss?"

"No. I will not grovel."

"Ok. Go back then. Are you saying those other things aren't working?"

"I don't know."

"Let's assume they are."

"You think?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"How can I know for certain?"

"Has she invited you over?"

"Recently, yes - more or less."

"That's a good start."

"I suppose. Any other signs of certainty?"

Elsie bit her lower lip as if she were thinking hard about the question. "Has she let you hold her hand?"

"When I've tried, she has indeed!"

"Another positive. And yet, you seem to still have some doubt."

"I do."

"Mr. Carson, I'm going to go out on a limb here. I think there are both emotional and physical underlying causes at issue here."

"Oh?" Charles was beginning to have a hard time staying in character, but Elsie was gaining confidence, and with that, courage.

"Mr. Carson, are you under the care of any other medical professionals?"

"Call me Charlie. I am."

"What kind, Charlie?"

"An acupuncturist."

"I see."

"And those treatments are working?"

"It would seem so."

"Where does the acupuncturist needle you?"

"In her clinic."

"I mean, where _on your body_?"

"Lower back."

"Hmm. Where else?"

"My hand."

"Which one?"

Holding up his right hand, Charles left no doubt, "This one."

"May I see your hand, please?"

Charles held out his right hand as Elsie put her notepad and pen down on the desk beside her. She looked him over from head to toe, this gorgeous man sitting here in her office, after hours, trying to 'woo' her. She stood up and, surprising him, came over and sat beside him on his right side. She reached for his hand and gently maneuvered his arm so that his hand moved directly in front of her abdomen. Elsie turned his hand palm side up, cradling it in both of hers and caressing it with her thumbs. "Here?"

With a shallow breath, Charles replied simply, "Yes."

"Where else?"

He swallowed deeply, "My ear."

"Which one?"

"Right."

"Show me, please."

"Here," Charles reluctantly lifted his hand from Elsie's two to point to the upper part of the vertical helix then let his hand fall to the sofa between their legs. His eyes were locked on hers the whole while as she drew closer.

She turned her torso somewhat toward him, and adjusted herself further so that her elbow rested on the top of the sofa's backrest. With her left index finger, Elsie gently ran her finger up and down the lower helix of Charles's right ear. "Here?" Her thumb now joined her index finger and with both working together, Elsie began to play with his ear lobe.

"Um, no, higher, but that's probably close enough," he swallowed harder.

"Probably."

"Anywhere else?"

"No, that's all."

"Nowhere else? That's too bad Charlie. Because, although I have limited experience in acupuncture, acupressure has always interested me."

"I'm getting that idea."

Elsie looked from his eyes down to his lips and back again then added, "I'm getting an idea too." With that a very bold and courageous Elsie Mae Hughes leaned forward and kissed her new boyfriend on the lips. For the very first time.

Although Charles would later admit he saw it coming when she began massaging his ear lobe, in the moment, he acted like it was a surprise – a pleasant one – but a surprise nonetheless. Elsie kept her closed lips against his closed lips for a short while before opening her mouth ever so slightly and letting her tongue escape to touch his lower lip. And right then, she began to giggle. To giggle in a way she hadn't since she was a girl in Argyll.

Finally Charles moved his lips, if only to ask, "What's so funny?"

"You taste of cinnamon and sugar." The moment had been broken as Elsie fell to her side in a fit of laughter. As he looked down at her nearly in convulsions, Charles couldn't help but laugh himself. And that's when they heard a knock on Elsie's office door – Isobel must have returned from upstairs. As Igor trotted out to play security guard again, Elsie regained her composure. Charles stood up first and then helped her to her feet. She wiped her eyes and walked over to her desk, grabbed her purse and Igor's leash and said, "Let's go, Charlie."

Isobel was oblivious to the goings on that had occurred in Elsie's inner sanctum. As they left the building together, she was quite chatty relaying how pleased Richard was to hear the news that Elsie Hughes and her companion, a patient of Isobel's, would be joining them for dinner. The foursome stopped for the Mediterranean food and whilst Isobel went inside, Elsie waited outside with Igor and Charles went into a liquor store across the street to pick up wine. He bought three bottles and then their journey to Dr. Richard Clarkson's home continued on.

The food was delicious, the conversation among the four of them easy and filled with laughter. At one point, Isobel turned to Elsie, "Charles said you went to the ballet last Sunday." She didn't mention that she had been there as well, and by the look she gave Charles across the table, he knew not to mention that either.

Elsie shared her enjoyment at the whole production and their chance to speak with "Tweedledum" afterward. She also added that she'd thought a few times since how much Becky would have enjoyed the play. Richard agreed, knowing Becky as he did.

Charles piped in, "I'll take her sometime. THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES is up next in the My First Ballet series. Do you think she'd like that?"

Elsie was still absorbing the sweetness of that offer and didn't answer his question right away. When she spoke again, she instead asked a question of her own. "Charlie, isn't an emperor a kind of king?" At first he didn't follow her and was intent on figuring out what she was getting at. When he finally pieced together the King of Hearts sprawled out on stage in his red tights, Elsie calling him the King of Hearts and then adding to those the premise of nakedness behind THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES Charles's face turned red as a beet – and Elsie laughed so hard she snorted, waking Igor who had been sleeping underneath the dining table. The details were lost on Richard and Isobel, but Isobel in particular delighted in seeing Charles being so lovingly teased.

Conversation turned professional later with Charles asking Isobel about the effectiveness of treating hot flashes with acupuncture. Now it was Elsie's turn to look like a beet.

Seeing the displeasure on Elsie's face, Charles added. "What? We're all adults here, if she can help you."

Isobel came to Elsie's rescue then. "Charles, don't go there unless you want me to mention your treatments."

"Yes, my palsy and stress, we've already covered those, Isobel."

Elsie who was seated to Charles's right reached for his hand again, "But, if you've been trying to treat his sweet tooth, Isobel, that is _not_ working!"

"What's this? Ganging up on me?"

Richard innocently piped in, "Women – you can't live with them, can't live without them!" Isobel kicked him under the table for that one. He didn't know about Alice; regardless it was a bit of a mood killer as Charles's mind went to his deceased wife.

Elsie took control again admitting, "In fact, a friend had suggested acupuncture for my hot flashes. I don't know though, I'm scared of the needles. And you know, this one afternoon, oh, maybe a month ago I was with a client and we heard this scream. It was right above us, horrible. I knew there was an acupuncture office right above mine, it must have been one of your patients, Isobel."

Charles looked at Isobel and Isobel looked at Charles, realization dawning on them. "That might have been me," Charles admitted. Isobel grimaced but acknowledged that it likely was him. Elsie and Richard were curious to be clued in but Charles quashed it explaining, "It's a long story; perhaps another time."

Isobel stood up to clear the table and Charles made to help her whilst Richard and Elsie continued to chat. Charles had simply intended to lend a hand but as soon as they were out of view in the kitchen, Isobel turned to him and grabbing his wrist admitted, "Charles, I like her – a lot. Well done!"

"Richard seems good too! Good luck with him!" Making sure no one could hear him, Charles continued, "What about the other chap, still in the running?"

Isobel said yes, whilst Richard was her date for Easter services and lunch on Sunday, she would see Dickie Grey and his family at 4:00 that same day. Charles rolled his eyes before kissing her on the cheek and adding, "More power to you, Isobel!"

When the table was all cleared, Richard offered coffee or Turkish tea, but Elsie declined, yawning. "Charles, you'd better be getting her home."

"I think you're right, Richard."

Over the next few minutes, Charles used the loo, Elsie leashed Igor, Richard grabbed their coats, and Isobel packaged up some extra baklava for the sweet tooth. Charles and Elsie bid their goodbyes and thanks and, with Igor, walked to the sidewalk where Charles asked if he could walk them home. Elsie nodded her approval. They walked, hand in hand, for the 25 minutes or so it took to get to Elsie's home.

Eventually she stopped them in front of her humble little brick row house. "This is it, Mr. Carson." Charles looked up, and in particular noticed a stained glass window above Elsie's front door. He smiled approvingly, "I like it."

Elsie turned to face him and stepped closer. As before in her office, she looked from his eyes to his lips and back again – up the whole time given Charles's stature dwarfing her. "I like you." And then she leaned in and kissed him again. This time, Charles hummed his approval, and chastely but sincerely returned the kiss, his right palm against Elsie's cheek and his fingers threaded in her hair.

As their lips broke apart, Charles replied at last, breathlessly, "Ditto."

Elsie slowly backed away before turning to walk up her front steps. "Goodnight, Charlie. Thanks for walking me home."

"Goodnight, Elsie." She disappeared inside and yet he stood there for a moment, marveling at his good fortune to have this gorgeous woman come into his life. Eventually he turned and started walking home. It took him nearly 40 minutes to get there and later, when he was plugging in his phone for the night, he looked down at the Health app and saw that he had logged more than 15 miles today! In that very moment, he decided beyond a doubt, he would join Elsie for her charity walk in May!

CECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: Too funny. When I googled "anatomy of the ear" in order to use the correct terminology, the source that came up with the best (labeled) illustration was Yorkshire Hearing Aids!

Thank you readers! Since you have waited so very patiently for a Chelsie first kiss, I decided to deliver their first and second. I hope you enjoyed them both!


	19. Chapter 19: Yorkshire Terriers, Part 1

Saturday, 31 March 2018

5:45 am

Elsie was up early this morning, surprising herself even what with the extra busy-ness and stress of the week just passed and the springing forward of the clocks that had occurred just under one week ago. In truth, she had slept like a rock, warmed both by the knowledge she was the girlfriend of an amazing man and their first kisses yesterday. Elsie could not wipe the smile off her face as she stretched her arms out from underneath the covers.

She let Igor out into the yard and prepared his breakfast, she wanted to make the most of her time before hosting Becky and Martha was in full swing. She wanted to get out at sun's first light, about 6:30, for her powerwalk and so she fed Igor right away in order to allow his food to digest whilst she dressed upstairs.

8:30 am

Both before and after a 5:30 trip outside with Lady, Charles too had slept like a rock, warmed by the knowledge he had an amazing new girlfriend.

His overnight roller bag was already loaded with most of what he needed for today's trip to Hampshire: toiletry bag, socks, pants, pyjamas, slippers, lavender gingham dress shirt and tie and some product literature for Ham. Comfortable knowing all he had to pack yet was his light grey suit, Charles was indulging in a Saturday morning lie in. Eventually he realized that his woolgathering about how Elsie had kissed him – twice – for the first time yesterday, had resulted in a genuine erection, his first in he didn't remember how long. No question about it, he was as hard as a cricket bat. While at first embarrassed, Charles soon came to the conclusion that what was happening in his bed, between the sheets, was something to be proud of. Not that it had been of any concern for the longest while, but he had been uncertain whether there might be any correlation between his prostate issues and…that. But this morning, presuming of course that the opportunity would come, he was pleased to find himself confident that he wouldn't disappoint Elsie. A cold shower eventually was required.

10:24 am

Elsie phoned him to say good morning and wish him a good Easter weekend. Though she knew it was far beyond likely, when Charles answered the phone she teasingly asked, "Are you awake?"

In fact, he was already on the train to Hampshire, his roller bag overhead on the luggage rack and box of hot cross buns beside him on the seat; he wished it were her buns instead.

She inquired about Shrimpie, prompting Charles to roll his eyes before explaining that she was under the care of Thomas, Thomas's sister and Simon this weekend. He'd dropped her off this morning with them before continuing on to Waterloo Station.

Despite a delayed departure, he was still due to arrive in time for luncheon. He would need to phone Robert when he had a revised estimated time of arrival.

Elsie reported that she had just eaten a late breakfast and was planning a soak in the tub before ramping up her day. When he asked if she was planning to eat luncheon with Becky, she said no. She needed to soon go to the market; the pork she was serving tomorrow called for 24 hours in its dry rub. And with them due at the Masons' at 4:00 to color Easter Eggs with Beryl and Bill's granddaughters Ivy and Evelyn followed by Beryl's "to die for" lasagna, she reasoned that waiting to pick up Becky just before then would mean she would only have to move the car once today, parking being a never-ending challenge. She would use the meantime to clean up the house and set the table for tomorrow. The tulips he'd sent on Monday would be their centerpiece and all in all, she was feeling unusually organized as she thought ahead to Easter.

Elsie inquired about his plans, specifically if he was in fact due to polish the silver. Charles confirmed that was his understanding, but it shouldn't take long with just four of them eating together tomorrow: himself, Cora, Robert, and Robert's mother, Maggie. As he needed to notify Robert about his delay, Charles suggested maybe he could call Elsie later tonight and she thought that sounded nice.

He had missed the announced arrival time and asked the conductor when the train was due to pull into Whitchurch. Told 11:34, he dialed "Grant Ham" on his phone.

"Late arrival, chap, 11:34 we hear." They had already gotten the news themselves, Cora having programmed a travel alert for Charles's train into her phone. Robert was in their formal dining room that Cora had decorated for Easter. Charles's call took his mind from the work he'd just started: pulling out the good china, serving pieces, and silver chest as Cora had asked of him. But now Robert's attention was caught by the decorations on top of the sideboard, particularly the chocolate rabbit. Charles asked him a question but when Robert did not answer, Charles wasn't certain if the train had hit a bad cell. "Ham?"

"Sorry, chap. I was…I was just looking at this chocolate rabbit that Cora bought. I swear it's shorter than when she first set it out two weeks ago."

"I remember the Easter when she was pregnant with Sybil. When you went to eat the rabbit ears with Edith on Easter Sunday you discovered Cora had been scraping chocolate off the rabbit's bottom, hoping you wouldn't notice!" Pausing then in contemplation, Charles asked, "Ham, she's not pregnant again, is she?"

Robert was shocked at the suggestion but then remembered their love life had been unusually active in the new year for some unknown reason, he thought perhaps hormones tied to Cora's changing body. Getting nervous at the realization there could be at least two reasons behind such changes, Robert walked over and lifted up the chocolate rabbit only to find telltale signs of chocolate shavings. Robert immediately told Charles, "I have to go, On. See you in a little under an hour." Charles began to chuckle as Robert hung up. "Cora!" Robert called out just after hitting the red button on his phone.

11:34 am

Robert and Cora were waiting for Charles's train at the station, Cora having spent the better part of the last hour convincing her husband that she was absolutely, positively _not_ pregnant. When she'd asked where he'd gotten the idea in the first place, he said it was reminiscing with Charles. Men! Of course, she could picture the fun he would have crowing about it were it in fact true. But it wasn't.

The threesome were no sooner in Robert's Land Rover when the master plan for the day was outlined to Charles: luncheon out followed by dropping off his things at home then picking up Maggie and all going to one of the local spring flower shows together. "Am I dressed properly?" Charles asked, worriedly. Robert looked over at his best friend seated beside him. Charles had on dark but stonewashed jeans, a navy striped shirt with fine pink pinstripes and a navy Corduroy jacket over it and striped scarf. The look was finished off with camel colored shoes and belt. "It's 2018, On, you can wear practically anything, anywhere. You look fine." In truth, Charles was as much worried about his appearance for Robert's mother as for the flower show; she was a classy lady and might frown upon his jeans, but the only other thing he had packed was his suit for tomorrow.

After the flower show, they would drop Charles and Maggie at her place, presumably for tea. She had called this morning asking for some time for just her and Charles. Strange, Robert and Cora both thought, she hadn't mentioned anything at all before today of these wishes. Cora said it would be fine, she needed to shop for a few groceries yet and Robert was due to pick up an order from the local wine merchant. They would do both of those and she would start cooking for tomorrow whilst Charles was at Maggie's then pick him up. When Charles suggested again that Robert come with him to visit his mother, Robert countered, "No, she told me in no uncertain terms that she doesn't want to see me, just you, old chap!"

They ate their lunch and returned to Robert and Cora's. Charles hung up his clothes in his regular guest suite. In truth, he knew that Robert sometimes slept in here, when Cora had banished him from their bedroom. The room was very masculine in appearance, dark greens, blues, and greys and the colours were repeated in the towels and dressing gown in the en suite. As Charles put his toiletry bag on the counter, he noticed a new picture frame he hadn't seen at Christmas. He picked up the frame and studied the photo, remembering when it had been taken nearly 40 years ago. Bare-chested and smiling 20-something Robert and Charles side by side in sunglasses and swim trunks, one arm around one another's shoulder and standing in the shallows of the English Channel outside Brighton. Cora had taken the photo he recalled, it was well before Alice. God, they were such young lads! Brighton; didn't Elsie say something about Brighton a few weeks back, he wondered?

Returning from the guest suite, Charles proudly shared the box of hot cross buns he'd picked up in Hampstead yesterday afternoon. Cora and Robert both thought they looked delicious yet they should share some with Maggie. Cora found a container and Charles pulled three off the bunch to package up for her.

Maggie Grantham's cottage screamed of the English countryside with its ivy covered stone exterior and slate roof. Charles had proudly helped bring the place back to life after Robert's father had died almost 20 years ago when Maggie downsized to here. After Robert parked in the driveway, Charles ran to the front door, Maggie was waiting for them and Charles didn't even have the opportunity to ring the bell before Maggie opened the door for him. "Charles Carson, aren't you a sight for sore eyes! What are you wearing?"

Charles looked down at himself, busted before even seconds had passed. He didn't even have the chance to respond before Maggie continued. "You look like a metrosexual."

Charles was taken aback and it showed on his face. "Relax, Charles that's a compliment."

"I know what it means, Maggie, but young and liberal I am not."

Maggie clarified, "It's all relative," and then offered her cheek to him for the obligatory kiss. He followed her lead and wrapped her in a big, genuine hug to boot; she was his second mother, after all.

Charles held the container open for Maggie to see. "I have some hot cross buns I've brought along from London, may I put them in the kitchen for you?"

"Oh what a treat! Certainly, dear. I'm going to wander over to the Rover whilst you do that. Shut the door when you return." She made her way over to the SUV walking as she always did with her cane.

The flower show was quite delightful for all and contrary to Charles's earlier fears, he was – if anything – among the better dressed. He bought two bunches of flowers, one for Cora and tomorrow's table, another for Maggie. From another vendor he purchased a small yet beautiful lavender sachet; it would discretely fit in his breast pocket this afternoon and would be something he could give to Elsie.

2:45 pm

Robert and Cora dropped Charles and Maggie off at her home, asking whether 5:00 would be a safe time to pick Charles up. "Never you mind, I'll send Charles home with my car when we're all finished. He can keep it at your place overnight and pick me up on the way to church in the morning." She was defiant on the matter, which didn't surprise any of them. Charles helped Maggie out of the Land Rover and walked with her on his arm over to the cottage's front door, carrying the flowers in his other hand. Inside, they went straight away to the kitchen. Charles made to turn on the kettle for tea but Maggie stopped him. Oh, you can put the flowers in water, but don't fill the kettle, we're going out."

Charles was noticeably confused, he thought for certain she was having him over for tea. "Charles, I never mentioned tea, you just assumed, incorrectly. Actually, bring the flowers along, I'd like to regift them for a friend." Charles Carson never knew Maggie Grantham to not have her afternoon tea, which was partly why he was so confused. "Move it along, we're burning daylight," she added.

Maggie's Jaguar sedan was parked around back, quite a juxtaposition with its British racing green exterior yet handicapped license plates. Charles helped her into the front passenger seat before settling behind the wheel. He needed to adjust the seat and mirrors significantly to fit him. When Charles asked where they were going, Maggie vaguely stated that she would tell him where to turn. They were on the road for some ten minutes when Charles asked her, "Are we going to Highclere?" Her crooked smirk and turn of the head away from him was all the answer Charles needed.

Why didn't you just say you wanted to go to Highclere?"

"Because I didn't think you'd take me."

"I'm always glad to go to the Abbey."

"Oh? When was the last time you were there?"

Charles needn't think hard, "Christmas 2016."

"MmmHmm."

Looking at his watch, Charles continued, "But the tea room is surely closing now, their summer hours don't begin until 1 May as I recall."

"Charles, we are not going to the tea room." Realization hitting him, Charles slammed on the brake, Maggie wincing as the safety belt locked, digging into her collarbone.

"Where exactly do you intend for us to go?" Charles asked anxiously.

"The family plot. To Alice's grave, specifically." When Alice was dying, Maggie had offered she be buried alongside generations of Granthams, she and Charles being like family. They had no other plans and given that the Abbey is also where they'd first met, it made sense to the both of them. They accepted gratefully.

In reality, Charles found it difficult to go there, and hadn't for some time. "Oh for God's sake, Charles, at least pull off the road." He did exactly that before she continued. "Charles, it's time. Alice was a wonderful woman, we all adored her and continue to be so very sorry for all the pain and suffering she went through, and of course that she died so tragically young causing you to endure unspeakable pain and problems of your own. But all life is a series of problems which we must try and solve, first one and then the next and then the next, until at last we die. Charles, need I remind you, you're still alive!"

He stared straight ahead through the windshield as she lectured him. He heard it all but zeroed in on her first words, "What do you mean 'it's time'?"

"It's time to love again!"

"I don't need to go to Alice's grave to love again."

"I think you do, to do so properly at least. Now continue on," – Charles caught the double meaning of these three words. "I've made arrangements with the Executive Director and the security guard is staying at the gate late today to let us in then lock up. I don't want to keep him waiting." When Charles didn't move, Maggie continued, "The gear shift, Charles." At that, he did move the gear shift, aggressively, and peeled off the loose gravel back onto the asphalt. Neither spoke the rest of the way to the Abbey. In fact, neither did anything more than they were already doing until Charles pulled into the driveway and the guard, recognizing Mrs. Grantham's vehicle waved them in. She waved in reply.

The chain that normally kept vehicles off the gravel offshoot that led to the family plot was down, allowing Charles to drive all the way. He put the vehicle in park and turned off the engine. Touching his knee and with a soft voice, Maggie encouraged, "Let's go Charles." He shook his head thinking this was a bad idea but Maggie was already out of the car and walking toward the graves, the fresh flowers in her left hand. With her need for the cane under the best of conditions, Charles exited the vehicle concerned she might fall. He caught up with her quickly and extended his elbow to her to grab onto. They walked the rest of the way together.

One could trace the generations of the family with the ornateness of their markers; Alice's was the simplest of them all, flush with the ground, her remains inside an urn underneath it.

Alice Neal Carson 1954 – 2014

beloved daughter, wife of Charles

honourary daughter, sister, auntie &

member of the Grantham family

"The next time I come back here it will be for my own burial, I'm sure," Maggie broke the silence.

"I don't want to be buried here." At last, Charles spoke.

"You don't have to be. I thought it was a lovely place for Alice, she did so much to bring grandeur back to the Abbey and look at the millions who have now enjoyed it, in the last several years alone."

"Mmmm."

"Charles, talk to her. And while you're at it, listen." Maggie patted him on the forearm, handed him the flowers and then turned back toward the car. On her way, she brushed her fingers against Robert's father's headstone.

His feet temporarily frozen in place, Charles watched as Maggie returned to the car. When she was safely inside, he turned his attention back to Alice. He crouched down, brushing a few dried leaves from the marker and laid the flowers down. He looked to the bare treetops surrounding them, and beyond those the sky, catching sight of a bird in flight. And then he looked down and began talking to Alice.

He told her that he missed her, had been negligent in returning here and he apologized. In a roundabout way, he came around to telling her about Elsie. That he meant no disrespect but he was falling in love with this other woman. He told Alice what about Elsie he was falling in love with and how she had loved the design of their flat, that she respected Alice's place in his heart and would never take that away, rather, that he was finding new space in his heart for her and he was glad about it. Along the way, he cried a little bit, wiping the tears from his eyes and sniffling; he didn't have a handkerchief on him. He couldn't pinpoint the moment exactly, but he felt a burden lifted off his shoulders. He knelt on one knee briefly, pressed his fingertips to his lips and then laid his hand on the marker. He stood, slowly, and taking one last deep breath said under his breath, "Right, then. Goodbye Alice, I love you – and I always will."

Charles returned to the car, fastened his seat belt and drove slowly away. He and Maggie remained silent until they were almost back to her cottage.

"I know," she said softly.

Charles looked over at her, "What do you know?"

"That you're falling in love again."

He didn't deny it yet he didn't say any more. As they pulled into Maggie's driveway she asked, "Would you like to come in?" He shook his head. "No worries, Charles, I don't intend to share your news. If and when there's something to be shared, it will be for you to do so. Now, if Robert or Cora should ask what we did this afternoon, don't tell them we sat about having tea. You tell them we went to Highclere. I'd recently mentioned to them a question that the Executive Director contacted me about – something to do with the butler's pantry in the lower level. I had no idea, neither did Robert nor Cora. If they ask, you tell them I wanted you to go there with me and see it. They'll think nothing of it." She exited the car and before shutting the door said, "I'll see you in the morning."

4:08 pm

Elsie, Becky and Violet arrived at the Masons' with an Easter lily for Beryl and a jigsaw puzzle for the girls. The latter was Elsie's way of navigating through the subtle tension between Beryl who wanted to spoil her granddaughters with sweet treats and Lavinia who was opposed to sugar.

Beryl greeted Elsie and Becky both with big hugs and ushered them to the dining table where William and Lavinia were helping the girls set up for coloring the Easter Eggs. Ivy and Evelyn knew they had to wait until 4:00 when Auntie Elsie and Auntie Becky were due to arrive, however, the already few minute delay had been torturous for the young lasses.

Elsie hadn't seen the young Mason family at Christmas as Beryl and Bill had gone to William and Lavinia's Yorkshire farm for the holiday. So Elsie marveled at how much the girls, ages 6 and 8, had grown since she'd seen them last summer. Leaving Becky and Violet with the egg team, Elsie followed Beryl to the kitchen with the promise of some hot tea. "Where's Bill?"

"At the clinic tending to a vet emergency. There's been a run on them the last few weekends, to the point where we're asking ourselves, 'what's a weekend?'" Elsie chuckled, she could identify.

It had been over a month since these two long-time friends had seen one another and very unusual for them. Beryl asked what had been keeping Elsie away and was disappointed to hear her only mention work and other responsibilities, nothing about a man. She hadn't given up on her good friend – never would, in fact – at present, she was still hopeful of engineering a way to connect Elsie with Charles Carson. They'd had that first chance meeting at the Clinic in mid-February and another on Becky's birthday two weeks later – when he'd left to pick up flowers for the Hughes sisters. But Elsie didn't mention him any more and Beryl hadn't heard from Mr. Carson asking for some matchmaking help. Damn and blast she thought.

Regardless of all that Elsie described was yet again going on in her life, Beryl thought she looked good, really good. Remarkably, Elsie didn't seem stressed, she seemed happy and as attractive as ever, maybe even more so.

Beryl asked if she'd done something different with her hair even. No, it must be the exercise she was doing in preparation for the May fundraising walk. She was up to almost 14 miles this morning. When Elsie asked about Beryl's progress toward the same goal, her friend acknowledged her "training" wasn't going nearly as well.

Elsie went and checked on the egg progress, there were goals of three dozen eggs to be decorated and a few spares in case of cracked shells and the dyeing process alone simply took time. Lavinia was so patient with her own girls and that translated to her interactions with Becky as well. It was why a few years back, Elsie had designated William and Lavinia in her will as Becky's caretakers should anything ever happen to her. William had already been like a nephew to her his whole life and Lavinia completed him; they were so good together. Beryl and Bill didn't even know of the arrangement, but the young couple did. Elsie had asked them in advance and they had accepted the responsibility with honour. On the other hand, Beryl and Bill did know they were Elsie's backup with regard to Martha – and prayed for Elsie's continued safety and health as a result!

"Oh rats!" Beryl yelled from the kitchen. William went to his mum asking what was wrong. "The salad I bought for tonight has frozen in the fridge and I can't use it. I only have rocket alternatively and while there's enough of that for all of us, I know the girls won't eat it – too spicy for them. William, would you be a dear and dash to the market for me for some new salad for the girls?"

"Mum, they'll be fine. You shouldn't coddle them so."

"Coddling? I'm trying to help them eat their green veg. Why if I were coddling, I'd be indulging them with Cadbury eggs and marshmallow Peeps like you wanted at their ages! Please, just do this for your mum."

"Come on, William, I'll go with you – get myself a few more steps and give us a nice chance to catch up," Elsie suggested. Beryl thought it was an excellent idea for her to go along.

Elsie and William had just stepped onto the sidewalk when she asked, "So, how is Yew Tree Farm and Yorkshire in general?"

"Great, couldn't be better. We continue to love to have the horses and it's nice to be near where mum grew up, though I do miss the city." They had just passed a house with a beautiful large stained glass window facing the street. Elsie had never noticed it before but it caught her eye today. Now, every time Elsie saw stained glass, it made her think of her Charlie and right now it caused her to miss part of William's continued storytelling. "Mr. Drewe from the next farm over is looking in on the Stud whilst we're away for the holiday weekend."

Charlie…horse farm…Stud—the word made her think on Charles in a different way. Right down deep in her center she felt a forgotten desire. It caught her attention and altered her breath for a second.

"The girls think it's so funny that we named the farm after granddad's animal clinic," William continued.

"Yes, well, imagine what they'd think if they knew the story of where the Yew Tree name came from in the first place."

"You're right, they'd be in a fit of giggles right now if they knew it was named for the tree beside which granny and granddad shared their first kiss in Dr. and Mrs. Levinson's yard all those years ago." Elsie looked up now at the handsome young man beside her, always a fresh smile on his face. She thought that's all he knows, and giggled herself. "What's that about Aunt Elsie?"

"It's true, at least I too have been told that is where your parents shared their first kiss. However, I was a witness to something else beside that tree that it seems you don't know about."

"What's that?"

Oh, if William didn't know this already, Beryl in particular would kill her for telling him. What the heck, she was continuing to feel bold and adventuresome. "Well, you know Dr. Levinson was Jewish and when your mother became pregnant with you, we – along with Phyllis Baxter – were all roommates in the Levinson coach house right beside that very Yew tree." William nodded, he had known that his whole life. "Dr. Levinson in particular was not a bit happy that your mother opted to drop out of University, never finishing her degree but your parents asked the Levinsons to hold their wedding reception in the Levinsons' backyard nonetheless given that Yew tree."

"Go on."

Elsie stopped walking prompting William to pause too. "William, Dr. Levinson agreed to the reception under one condition: should the baby be a lad, then in the Jewish brit milah tradition, his foreskin was to be buried ceremoniously under that tree."

William's chin dropped.

"And of course you were a lad, and so eight days after you were born, several of us gathered in the Levinson's back yard as your da and Dr. Levinson buried your foreskin!"

"I had no idea!"

"Well, let's just keep it between you and me that you heard it at all, William," Elsie patted him on the forearm and resumed walking again.

A minute had gone by when William spoke up, "I'll share a secret with you also, Aunt Elsie. I'm on a mission for mum. She wants to know how you're doing, if you're seeing anyone. She knows you get mad anytime she asks and yet she wants to know. So she asked me to figure out a way to find out today. It almost makes me think she froze that salad on purpose!"

Elsie rolled her eyes and shook her head, "I wouldn't put it past her in the least, but remember, I offered to come along with you." They had arrived at the neighbourhood market, the one where William had worked stocking shelves as a teenager. As they entered the produce aisle, Elsie debated whether to mention anything about Charlie to him.

She felt badly about keeping the truth from William yet at the same time, he didn't actually ask her the question explicitly and it didn't yet feel right to tell him – or Beryl – about her boyfriend, regardless. She knew that if things kept going well, she would tell them soon enough. But whilst she wouldn't completely understand, a part of Elsie also wanted to first tell Becky about Charlie.

All that was going through her head yet as they left the market when Elsie picked up on William's mention of Beryl's inquiry.

"I promise, your ma will be among the first to know if and when I'm seeing someone."

"So you are seeing someone!"

"William, that's not what I said!" She shook her head at his insightfulness.

"I know, I know, but I can keep a secret, Lavinia too. Remember, mum and dad don't know about us and Becky and the paperwork."

"I know, love, and let's continue to keep it that way." Sighing, Elsie admitted, "Yes, I have had a few dates with a wonderful man whom I am falling in love with. But honestly, he's almost too good to be true and with my track record and the last chap especially…"

"That's the one mum calls Ringo."

"Hmmm?"

"Ringo – he gave you a ring and then later, you told him to go!"

"Ah, yes, 'the Dick' is what I call him."

Elsie and William enjoyed a quiet walk back to Beryl and Bill's thereafter. When they returned, Bill was home, the dining table cleared and after Beryl had a chance to prepare the salad without rocket for her grandbabies, all sat down to Beryl's famous lasagna.

At about the same time, Charles at long last pulled into the driveway in Maggie's Jaguar. He had returned to downtown Whitchurch to have a chance to walk around and process this afternoon's unexpected turn of events. Along the way, a text had come in from Elsie, her with Becky, two little lasses and gobs of Easter Eggs all the colors of the rainbow.

 _Hope your day is as bright as mine!_

It brightened up his day immensely, fortified him, in fact, at which point he felt ready to return to Robert and Cora's.

He was greeted with delicious smells coming from the kitchen where Cora was hard at work. It reminded him of what it was like coming home after work for so many years to the smells of dinner warming in the oven. He realized he missed that, greatly.

But there was no time for being sentimental, Cora reminded him he had a job to do: the silver. Everything was in the dining room waiting for him and she would take Robert off sous chef duties to help him; dinner would be ready about 6:30. She had made a pan of lasagna two days prior. She'd never made it before but understood it would be easy to reheat on this night when she was focused on food preparations for tomorrow.

Charles set about the polishing at once. He opened the silver chest, took out all the pieces Cora suggested they would need for place settings and serving and put the box back in the sideboard. Next, he opened the jar of silver polish and then donned the gloves. He found the whole ritual rewarding – it was both special to take the time to polish the silver and it's rhythmic motion relaxing.

Robert was no help in the process. He really never had been over the years, he didn't have the attention to detail that Charles did – another reason why Cora always saved this task for him. Instead, Robert kept him company and the two began to discuss the wireless electronics questions Robert had for him, the product literature Charles had brought along from London was in fact tied to this as it outlined the system he had installed in the flat.

As Charles finished polishing each piece, he set it on a clean towel Cora had given him and when he was finished, he sent Robert into the kitchen to wash and dry it all as he turned his attention to setting the table, beginning with the flowers from today's flower show as the centerpiece.

In time, as the table was fully set, Cora came into the dining room to announce that dinner was ready. She was so pleased with how the table looked and thanked Charles for his efforts with a kiss on the cheek.

They were eating at the kitchen table tonight and tomorrow for breakfast, affording Charles's table to stay fully intact until tomorrow's Easter luncheon.

8:00 pm

Charles, Robert and Cora Facetimed with the Branson family. Sybil had initiated the call knowing Charles was at her parents' for the holiday and between hunting Easter Eggs and Easter services at church, feared their Sunday morning in Boston would be too filled to connect before Charles was sure to be heading back to London.

After a moment speaking just with Sybil, Tom and Sybbie had come on camera, Sybbie dressed in her new Easter dress that Cora had sent her. After the three in Hampshire complemented her on looking like such a young lady, Sybil encouraged Sybbie to get closer to the camera, "for CC." Sybil also helped reposition it to zero in on the charm bracelet on Sybbie's left wrist. Charles had sent it to Sybbie for Easter, part of his God-parenting duties he proudly attended to. It had three charms on it and Cora asked what they were – a cross, an Easter Egg and "a bunny rabbit" Sybbie told her, mention of last prompting Sybbie to giggle uncontrollably. Charles adored the child's laughter regardless, but right now, it took him back to Elsie's giggling yesterday on the sofa in her office. Charles licked his lips at the memory for they had all had a hot cross bun along with fresh berries as their pudding tonight.

Recognizing that Charles was at "granny and Donk's", Sybbie asked, "Where's Shrimpie?" Robert explained that for some unfathomable reason, Isis did not get along with Shrimpie and so "CC" had left her in London. Charles added the specifics, that she was staying with neighbours of his, satisfying the little girl's curiosity.

Later, after two rounds of brandy in the library beside the fire, Cora bid the lads goodnight, she was off to soak in the tub. Charles joined Robert when he went out with Isis for a short walk, reminded again of how dark the sky could be beyond the lights of the city. They each had one more brandy before calling it a night, Robert off to the master bedroom upstairs, Charles to the guest suite adjacent to the library downstairs.

He had texted Elsie who replied that yes, it was a good time to talk. She filled him in about all the happenings at the Masons and he laughed at her retelling of the William and the Yew tree story. Little did he know that Robert had returned, briefly, to the library and overheard his friend's laughter through the door. Robert was curious but recalling how melancholy and irate Charles had been when they had last met up in London, he simply shrugged his shoulders, glad for his friend. He retrieved what he came down to the library for and returned upstairs.

After a few more minutes chatting, Charles and Elsie wished one another a happy Easter and said goodnight.


	20. Chapter 20: Yorkshire Terriers, Part 2

Sunday, 1 April 2018

Last night and into this morning as Charles slept in Robert and Cora's guest suite, he dreamt of Alice. Well, of their life together. Beginning with their meeting at Highclere in the early 80s as two young creatives hired to work on the Grantham family's Abbey restoration project. Their courtship in the area, the first time they made love – in a hay loft on the Yorkshire estate where his father worked when Charles had first taken Alice back to meet his parents and she had passed "the test" – with flying colours…

…Of their June 1985 wedding ceremony on the main floor of that very same barn. God what sentimental fools they were to insist on having the ceremony there! Not only was there the scent of the horses from the nearby stables and other farm animals around the surrounding fields but also hay fever that kicked in for many of their guests, including Best Man Robert…

…Their honeymoon in the Nordic countries including stops in Copenhagen and Stockholm where they found life-long inspiration for the modern furniture they accumulated piece by piece over the years and was in his flat still today. And their cruise along the Norwegian coast…

…Starting their life together, based in London, and dreams of making little dark haired babies together. Dreams that gave way to honourary Auntie and Uncle designations with the arrivals of Edith and Sybil. And lots and lots of energy poured into achieving professional fulfillment…

…During the ugliest chapters, remembering Alice's botched surgery, the trial and her slow death, meant Charles's sleep became fitful and eventually he woke with a gasp, suddenly sitting straight up, drenched in perspiration. It was so real.

It took him some time but eventually he calmed and returned to a bit more sleep. Alice returned too, with one final message: that she understood if Charles found someone after her, in fact she encouraged him to find someone else. Just remember the final promise he had made: not to share her bed, their bed. Buy a new one.

7:45 am

Charles waking thoughts turned to sharing a bed – not Alice's, not theirs – with Elsie. That new dream made him smile coyly, albeit with reticence. They were so far away from that still what with his regarding himself a gentleman and Elsie a lady. Still, it was a pleasant way to wake up, far more pleasant to him than what sealed his waking this Easter morning: the sounds of moaning, banging, and emphatic "yeses" from Cora drifting down from the master suite above him. She was so _loud_ – so American? It all prompted Charles to pull himself out of bed lest he might hear her climax whilst singing YANKEE DOODLE. He chuckled at that and thought if anything, she should sing GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!

Charles put on his dressing gown and shuffled to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee for them all to share, whenever Robert and Cora came down, literally and metaphorically.

Eventually, Robert arrived downstairs first, a very wide grin on his face that he had trouble hiding. Charles gave no indication that he had heard them, but he was happy for them given earlier rockier times in their marriage. And he did envy his best friend having just enjoyed what was apparently mind-blowing sex on Easter morning and April Fool's Day all rolled into one – Robert, it seemed, was no fool.

Charles returned to the guest suite to shower and ready for church; they were planning to attend the 9:30 am service. Walking back into the kitchen, he was wearing a lavender gingham dress shirt and purple print bowtie, grey suit trousers, their matching jacket hanging by the inside loop from his right index and middle fingers. They were good colours on him, Cora said as much – she always appreciated how Charles wore colour, in the past few years she had realized it wasn't just Alice's designer eye that had been at work, Charles had the knack all on his own. It pleased the artist in her.

Robert had prepared simple omelets for them all with blistered tomatoes and fresh herbs on top and there was a hot cross bun for each as well. Cora read Happy Easter greetings to them both from Edith and family and made mention of Edith's hope they might connect today for a phone call or Facetime. She typed back that after luncheon would probably be best on their end.

Robert had also spoken with Maggie in the meantime and she had mapped out a refinement to their plans for the day. They should drive to her place together and after attending services she would ride directly home with them. Then, whenever Charles was preparing to leave for the train later in the day, he could drive her car to the station and she would drive home from there alone, saving all the trouble of driving not so many miles. Robert liked the idea because if Charles agreed to be the passenger from their home to the station under the premise of making it easier for Maggie who had enough difficulties getting in and out of the car, Charles would have a chance to assess Maggie's driving skills. Charles agreed, though he wondered if, given that set up, Robert was sending him to his death.

Back in London, Elsie too was the first one up, also at 7:45, and she had a few April Fool's Day – or Huntigowk Day, in Scottish – jokes planned for Becky. She shooed both dogs out of Becky's room and downstairs to be let out, shutting the guest room door behind her on the still-sleeping Becky. She kept the dogs outside whilst she prepared the dogs' breakfasts, tea and apricot scones with fruit for her and Becky and pulled out the Easter Eggs they had brought home from Beryl's. Then, when the dogs came inside to eat, Elsie went out in the yard, hid six eggs for Becky to find in trees, bushes and around the patio and cleaned up the piles the dogs had deposited elsewhere in the grass.

When she came inside, she gave Violet's nails a fresh coat of violet nail polish that she had snuck out of Becky's room yesterday when she picked her up - and, though it was difficult due to his not being inclined to stay still - she also painted Igor's forepaw nails a bright turquoise blue. Lastly she gently clipped the tips of both dog's ears together with clips she had gotten from Beryl and the Clinic. Then she went upstairs to wake Becky encouraging her to come downstairs to see the Easter dog-bunnies. Becky loved the prank and especially when Elsie shouted "April Fool's!" At first Becky was confused, understanding today to be Easter. So Elsie clarified today was both.

When Beryl texted Easter emojis to Elsie along with a series of photos of the girls hunting for their Easter eggs, hoisting their Easter baskets and then with Beryl as they each bit into a chocolate bunny ear, Elsie shared the photos with Becky who suggested they treat Beryl to an April Fool's Day joke – by telling her they were coming over today after all – with Martha, of course! Elsie thought the idea an excellent one and carried it out.

Beryl's hesitant reply advising when they'd be returning from church and all simply confirmed that she had fallen for Becky's joke. Then Becky herself typed the "April Fool's! [heart] Becky + Elsie" reply.

Beryl had one word back: Bugger!

10:30 am

The Bates family had ridden to church and sat in the pew with Elsie, Becky and Violet. All had just left Easter services and the Hughes clan was piling back into the Mercedes parked a few blocks away, the boot laden with the Easter baskets destined for Martha's home. In addition to the five baskets she'd made up over the last week – those for Martha's friends and one for Becky - Elsie also had a tiny one, large enough to hold just a single egg, for Jack.

On the ride to Times of Endearment, Elsie absentmindedly was nibbling on her lower lip as she looked at Becky's reflection in the rearview mirror and her sister looked out the window. She had decided to speak with Becky about Charlie, to at least break the ice and was nervous about Becky's reaction.

She began by asking Becky if she remembered Mr. Carson from the Veterinary Clinic. Yes, she did – he had brought them both flowers on her birthday. Elsie confirmed that and added that she had seen him again. "Did he bring you flowers again?" Elsie smiled. Yes, he had sent some to her last Monday. Did she notice the flowers on the dining table? Becky did and Elsie clarified that those were the ones from Mr. Carson, Charlie. Becky said they were nice. After a pause, Becky asked with worry in her voice due to remembering Richard, "Is _he_ nice?"

Elsie reassured Becky that yes, Charlie was indeed nice. Becky relaxed in the sincerity of Elsie's reply. "No April Fool's?" She wanted to be 100% sure.

"I promise, no April Fool's."

"Good. Have you snogged him?" Becky asked so matter-of-factly and was focused again on the sights passing by her window.

Regaining her composure, Elsie cleared her throat whilst images of her sitting beside Charlie on the sofa in her office and standing outside her house not 48 hours ago came to mind. She confirmed for Becky that she and Charlie had kissed.

"Good. That means you like him." Elsie couldn't deny that. "I like him too." Again, nothing but the facts from Becky who then switched topics asking when they would be eating luncheon today.

It warmed Elsie's heart that in Becky's preliminary assessment, she was on the right track with Charlie. He had expressed interest in seeing Becky again, even suggesting taking her to the ballet; Elsie now looked forward to the day, hopefully in the not too distant future, when she could reintroduce the two. In the meantime, there was Martha to contend with as they had just arrived at her assisted living facility.

11:00 am

Becky and Violet stayed in the car whilst Elsie made two trips to and from the Times of Endearment parking lot, her arms laden with Easter baskets on both trips in. Martha was thrilled by the baskets' appearance as were their ultimate recipients. Elsie felt good and that the effort had been worth her while.

Leaning on Elsie's arm on their way to the car, Martha couldn't wait a moment longer to pounce on the forbidden topic she'd continued to wonder about for more than a week. "Now, Elsie, about this man you're seeing…"

Elsie just stopped and with a grimace on her face and roll of the eyes told Martha, "You're such a terrier!"

"Of course I am." Squeezing Elsie's arm to get her moving again, Martha continued, "It's what I do best!" That prompted a laugh from Elsie. She was close to confirming but also knew if she did, the topic would consume their day. And then she had an idea.

"We've broken up, nothing's come of it. I've moved on," she said with a straight face. When she saw how crestfallen Martha looked suddenly, Elsie added, "Sorry to disappoint you." What Martha couldn't see was Elsie's winking her eye that was farthest from Martha.

They returned home, Elsie securing a prime parking spot just doors away. As Martha watched Becky from the slider and Becky hunted outdoors for her Easter Eggs, Elsie popped the Moroccan pork and basmati rice into the oven and macerated the strawberries. The spring pea and asparagus salad that Martha had requested last weekend was also easy, just time consuming to prepare and so Elsie poured her and Martha a glass of wine and she sipped that as she worked in the kitchen.

The topic of the cottage in Brighton was brought up with Elsie begging that they agree not to disagree today, not on Easter. So they agreed to the need for a contractor or roofing specialist to perform an inspection to assess what all needed to be done repair-wise.

Luncheon in Hampshire was also easy for Cora given all the prep work she'd done in the days leading up to today. Before they left for church, she had Robert and Charles both help her get dishes out of the refrigerator so they wouldn't be so cold when they returned nor, if appropriate, require as much time to reheat.

Upon their return, Cora put the new potatoes and shredded red cabbage in the oven, the dinner rolls in the warming drawer, minted peas and carrot-ginger soup on the stove top before assembling the pavlova – it's alternating layers of baked meringue, fresh custard, whipped crème and fresh fruit, in today's case a combination of chopped kiwi fruit, mango and black raspberries.

Whilst Robert helped in the kitchen, first by transferring the fresh horseradish to the serving bowl and then carving and plating the beef tenderloin (to be served at room temperature), Charles stepped outside with Isis via the library. With the dog busy sniffing around, Charles checked his phone when it buzzed, Elsie had sent a photo of their Easter table including tulip centerpiece. It made him smile. Maggie had stepped out to join him for some fresh air and surprised him. "Is that from her?" Pointing to his phone.

He'd been caught out, "Yes," he replied simply.

"Good, I'm glad." Charles looked over at her, stoically. Maggie clarified, "She makes you happy."

This time, Charles's face showed a hint of emotion. "She does."

"What is her name?"

"Elsie."

Maggie pondered it for a moment, eventually nodding her head. "Charles and Elsie – that has a good ring to it."

Raising his eyebrows, Charles clarified, "Actually, _Charlie_ and Elsie."

She tittered, "Next thing you know they'll be calling you Chelsie!" He rolled his eyes, but felt better overall.

She looked out over the field to trees beyond. "I have always loved this view. When Robert and Cora found this place all those years ago, this was the first thing I noticed. It reminds me still of where I grew up in Yorkshire. I still miss Yorkshire."

"But you fell in love with Robert and Rosamund's father London."

"Yes, yes, he was from Hampshire and wanted to come home, raise his children here." Pausing, she added, "There is no telling where love will take us, Charles, remember that." Patting his shoulder, Maggie continued, "Come on inside, Charles – I mean Charlie – it's getting cold out, and I'm getting hungry!"

Charles nodded, called Isis and held the library door open for the both of them. The 24-hour impasse with Maggie had now thawed.

Cora had just stepped into the library as well to call them both in. "Luncheon is served!"

Maggie led the way into the dining room praising the table setting and shine on the Grantham family silver as soon as they were in her sight.

"I think mama's right," Cora opined, extending an appreciative squeeze of the elbow to Charles.

"Can somebody write that down?" Maggie asked as she moved behind her chair that Charles held out for her.

Robert walked into the dining room just then, carrying a spectacular tray of rare beef tenderloin that earned Cora similar praises and made Charles's mouth water. They sat down, Robert leading them all in the Easter blessing.

In time, Charles enjoyed two full plates of the food, and an extra slice of tenderloin with horseradish on top of that. Cora always marveled with Charles only being a few inches taller than Robert, how much more he could and did eat compared to her husband, even more so now with Robert still recovering from his ulcer.

Everyone praised the appearance of Cora's pavlova too when it arrived for the pudding course. Whereas the others had but one slice, if that, Charles finished off a second helping.

After the table was cleared, dishes were soaking and all had retreated to the library, they Facetimed with Edith and family in Switzerland. Like with Sybbie, Cora had sent Marigold a new dress for Easter but the little lass was in her pyjamas now, having just woken from her afternoon nap. Being half awake certainly was an excuse to be reserved, but the child had a fraction of Sybbie's personality at any time of day.

4:05 pm

It was time for Charles to leave though Robert had asked what the rush was, there was plenty of room and he was welcome to stay longer. Lady was the issue for Charles; his neighbours had graciously kept her for the weekend and weekend alone. He said his goodbyes and thanks and one last round of praise for the food before loading his overnight bag in the boot and climbing into the front passenger seat.

Charles knew he was supposed to be paying attention to Maggie's driving, but in truth she was doing fine, perfectly in control – as was her nature about everything. He had one nagging question though and he had to ask.

"Maggie, how did you know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Yesterday on the way back from Highclere. You said you knew. How did you know that I am falling in love again?"

"I have eyes Charles!"

He chuckled, "So, woman's intuition you're saying?"

"Mmm, you could say that. Robert's clueless, but after they'd seen you in London last, Cora wondered whether you've met someone." Charles had no idea, not then, not after the parts of these last two days together. "Relax, Charles, we only want the best for you."

"Thank you, that means a great deal to me."

" _You_ mean a great deal to us." They had arrived at the station, a few other passengers already congregating.

"Thank you, Maggie," Charles leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before climbing out of the vehicle. He grabbed his bag from the boot and waved her off. He ambled over toward the tracks, pulled out his phone and texted Robert, knowing he was worried about his mother's driving.

 _Not to worry, Ham. She's at the top of her game._

When there was no immediate reply, Charles looked at his watch, he expected that Elsie would soon be driving Becky and Martha back home.

The three women and two dogs had survived 5 + hours together on this Easter Sunday. Most all had gone well, in fact. Martha loved the meal, especially when Becky agreed that she liked it and suggested Charlie would like it too!

Elsie had been forced to come clean to her mentor, adding a semi-feeble "April Fool's!" Sending Becky out to the yard again after their meal to play with Igor, Elsie told Martha a bit about Charlie, how they'd met at Beryl and Bill's and over the last six weeks, had a handful of dates that were going "swimmingly."

Since they'd spoken about the Brighton cottage earlier, Elsie had surmized that with Charles being an architect, he would surely be qualified to assess the roof situation. She would ask him about it later – and perhaps drive him down there. That sounded fine to Martha who added, "Just let me meet him – soon!"

"I'm sure you'll love him," Elsie added.

"Just so long as he loves you, Elsie Mae Hughes."

"Aye, I think he does."

7:45 pm

Charles called Elsie, anxious to hear about her day with Becky and Martha, if she had survived. Indeed she had, when she in turn asked about his trip to Hampshire, he played it cool. "Lovely, it reminded me how much I love the countryside, the quiet life. I've been toying with the idea of moving out of London for a while now, buy a little place, maybe a little acreage. This weekend convinced me, that's what I should do. So, I'm going to start looking at some property listings."

Elsie was crushed, they were just starting to be a couple and there was no way she could move out of London. She thought, _why did he have to go and throw this wrench into things?_ When she suddenly heard him say, "April Fool's!"

"Oh, bugger me, Charlie!" He knew the minute she said it that she was expressing her surprise; in reality, he was thinking back again to how he'd started the last two mornings thinking of buggering her in that other way. "Charlie, on a serious note would you take a ride with me next weekend, down to Brighton? I'd like your opinion on a roof issue at the cottage."

"Of course, I've told you before, I'm happy to help out, ease your burdens however I might."

"Thank you."

"I just hope I don't have to wait that long to see you."

She giggled, "No, I promise not that long."

"Good. When?"

"Tuesday or Wednesday evening, I suppose."

"Not tomorrow?"

"Not tomorrow, sorry."

She heard him sigh. "Okay, Tuesday or Wednesday. You'll let me know."

"I will. Goodnight, Charlie."

"Goodnight Elsie, Happy Easter – and April Fool's Day."

She said it again as she was hanging up, "Bugger."


	21. Chapter 21: Downward Dog

A/N: Brackets below indicate what Beryl "Dirty Mind" Mason can't hear during the Chelsie conversation this afternoon.

CECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

Tuesday, 3 April 2018

Overnight Sunday into Monday saw Lady, unfortunately, return to one of her old habits – waking in the middle of the night with a need to urinate. Monday afternoon whilst Charles was out for _his_ training walk, Lady wet the blanket in her kennel meaning Charles returned home to the smell of urine and the need to do a load of wash.

But again, there was nothing terribly new about this so when Charles spoke with Elsie on Monday evening – as was becoming their new routine – the two made plans to meet for dinner on Tuesday.

Despite Charles intentionally staying awake late and walking Lady close to midnight, Lady had another accident in the early hours of Tuesday, this time in her dog bed. At 4:00 am Charles stripped the cover, put it in the soaking basin and moved Lady to her kennel - now with a clean blanket - where she slept the rest of the night.

Charles went for a long walk again on Tuesday morning, apprehensive about what he might come home to. When he did return, the blanket in kennel was fortunately dry, but Lady herself especially listless also. And then shortly before luncheon she barked. Lady _never_ barked, which concerned Charles as much as the bed and blanket wetting over the prior 36 hours. To the point that he called the Yew Tree Veterinary Clinic to get an appointment as soon as possible.

Beryl was of two emotions when she spoke with Charles – glad for him to come in presumably allowing for her to further some of her matchmaking between him and Elsie, but sorry for the reason behind his coming in. Her husband was not available but Andrew Parker could see Shrimpie, if Charles arrived prior to 3:30. He did.

3:00 pm

One look at Charles as he walked into the clinic and Beryl knew instinctively that today was, regrettably, _not_ the day to bring up anything beyond Shrimpie to him. Dr. Parker set about collecting a urine sample aand was disappointed to see evidence of blood with his bare eye. He asked Charles if he'd noticed any before now and the answer was no.

Dr. Parker didn't especially express concern; given Shrimpie's past history with UTI's, he suspected that's what was happening again and explained that the last infection might not have gotten out of her system completely. He'd have Daisy run the test and as always they'd know more in 20 minutes and he would prescribe whatever was necessary from the dispensary. Recalling his adventures of trying to give Lady pills the last time Charles – damn and blast – realized he was likely facing another round of that.

Charles returned to the waiting room, no one else was there save for Beryl who was behind the reception desk and confirming by phone an appointment with another pet owner for tomorrow morning. Looking at his watch, it was going on 3:30 and he recalled Elsie saying she would be done with her last patient about then. He texted her asking when she would be free for a call to discuss dinner plans. She replied back right away that now was good.

By then, Beryl was off the phone herself, but not wanting to disturb her work, Charles asked, "Will it be a bother if I make a call from here?" He had noticed it had started to rain and would have otherwise stepped outside. Beryl's nonchalant gesture told him he could do as he wished.

["Hello, Mr. Curmudgeon! How's your Monday been?"]

"Well, Lady and I are at the vet. She uh, has something going on again. May be the same infection as before. Just need to wait a little while and find out for sure. And you, what about you, Beautiful?"

Beryl inadvertently heard Charles address whomever was on the other line as 'Beautiful' and immediately decided to listen in more intently, of course employing her best eavesdropping techniques – keen eye and no physical or verbal reactions.

[Awww, he could be so sweet, Elsie thought. But then she sighed, "I'm afraid the day has been especially long and hard."]

"Long and hard - I thought you liked it that way every day!" Charles boomed with a hint of laughter in his voice. This was getting juicy quickly, Beryl thought!

["Cheeky. No, today was not fun."]

"Oh, come on, tell me what fun is?"

["I'll tell you what fun isn't - when you: a) see six clients, back to back, and the third spilled their latte in your waiting room but didn't tell you about it, but the fourth one does, b) find out the bloody window washers can't come until August to clean your bloody window because of some bloody scaffolding work, and c) forgot your lunch at home!" Elsie was steamed. "And –

"And?"

"And as if all that weren't enough, how would you like it if Lady somehow got into your hamper whilst you were in your morning shower only to walk out and find two pairs of your pants ripped to bits? Hmmm?"]

"Rip up your knickers? That is naughty!"

Beryl, who had been trying to multitask definitely heard that – and was now fully locked into the one-way conversation. She was getting a sense that Charles Carson had a whole different side to his personal life than she had _any_ inkling of before! She didn't know as she liked the revelation, but had best listen further given her interest in pairing him up with Elsie.

["I'll say! Charlie, I am so ready for this day to be over. And without any lunch I'm hungry. What are we doing?"]

"Well, first of all, I want you all to myself. It's been four days since –"

["Since that delicious Mediterranean dinner with Richard and Isobel. Oh, that's just making me more hungry, it was so good, so fresh."]

"Yes it was, and I would go so far as to say not just good but _very_ …satisfying. Anyway, as I said, just the two of us, none of that couples stuff again like Friday night – at least for a while again. But I found them nice, kind of tame? How about you?"

["I enjoyed their company and seriously, where else would I hear about acupuncture?"]

"Oh, for certain, I learned a few things myself! Based on that, I have an idea of what I'd like tonight, but really I want to hear what you have in mind, my dear." Out of the corner of her eye, Beryl noticed Charles waggle his prominent eyebrows with that comment.

["Well, I did happen to be looking online and there was a review of a place kind of near me and –"]

"You read about something new and you think we should try it. Intriguing set up."

["The food sounded good and in the photos the place looked warm and cozy."]

"On the intimate side it sounds?"

["Mmmm. But maybe you'd prefer to go somewhere you know, it sounds like your day could have been better as well."]

"Oh, I'm counting on you to help make it so! Don't misunderstand me, I always like to try something new."

["Well, this place sounds like a bit of a throwback."]

"Don't be bashful, just tell me already!"

["You liked Fun Shui, and I wonder if that means you like other Asian food."]

"Yes, I do, there aren't many things that I dislike, in fact." He chuckled again, patting his stomach.

["Well, do you remember hot pot from the 1980s?"]

"I do remember trying it - that was crazy fun! Say more."

["So you've had hot pot before?"]

"Yes, yes, but I can't think of how long it's been since I tried it."

["Well, that's this place's specialty."]

"Ooh, is it good and hot? Because I remember I liked it _really_ hot. If you can't guarantee it will be super hot, forget it. And you have to start with a good bone, a big meaty bone."

["That's what the critic was saying – he gave them 5 stars for the heat. Well, 5 stars for the temperature and 5 stars for the spice."]

"Yum. I always like it when things are spicy! I don't know if you know that about me yet."

["You sound just like Martha! Let's see, I've got the article here right now. What did they say…5 stars for temperature and spice, served with an array of vegetables, noodles and then you just put the fresh herbs in and you're done."]

"Back up, back up, on the bottom or on top?"

["Top, no doubt about it."]

"On the top she says! The lady knows what she likes. That's my preference as well."

Beryl couldn't contain herself any longer and lowered her face below the counter, to mouth to herself, _"On the top she says?!"_

["No, you don't want to submerge the herbs, just blanch them. I remember pinching the herbs with my chopsticks and just swirling them once or twice around the bowl and then lift them out. At least that's what I do with Pho. Have you tried that?"]

"You expect me to put it in and swirl it around? I don't know if I can do that, change my ways at my age. I've always just dipped in and out, quick over and over, put it in, nice and slow, before things go limp.

["Oh? Where'd you pick that up?"]

"From Alice for sure, she liked it that way though she always told me don't take such a big bite. But honestly, first time was before her, I'm sure I tried it at Uni." He chuckled, "No, now that I think about it, maybe even before then!"

["The only thing is, they don't take reservations and I know it may not seem necessary on a weeknight, but this article said they'd had a resurgence. Do you think you can meet me there by, oh 5:30 at the latest?"]

"Sounds a little risky, but if not tonight, I'd be game to try it another one."

By now, Beryl Patmore was so flustered in filling in the blanks and [mis]interpreting innuendos over the last few minutes that she thought Charles had just said, "risqué!" She was therefore startled when her husband walked up behind her and asked her when the courier was due to arrive. She told him the driver wouldn't be here for a good hour yet, why was there something wrong? He needed Mr. Carson.

"Well, you can have him! All the while I thought he was a good and decent chap Bill, but he's nothing but a pervert by the sound of it! Who would have guessed?! And here I was thinking he'd be a good catch for Elsie!" Bill Mason just shook his head, his wife just couldn't stay out of other people's business.

Charles had been ambling around the waiting area the whole time he was speaking with Elsie, focused intently on her on the other end of the line so when he looked up and saw Dr. Mason in the waiting room trying to get his attention, Charles realized he best hang up. "I've got to go, Els, Dr. Mason needs me. I'll call you when and we can hook up."

 _Did he just say 'Els'?_ Beryl wondered. _No, couldn't be. Must have been some other kinky thing, probably some position she hadn't heard of before, like Hell's Bells or something..._

He didn't even wait for her to say goodbye, but Elsie hardly noticed. "He called me Els…", Elsie thought. There'd been only two people in her life who had ever called her Els: her da and Joe, Joe Burns.

When Dr. Mason led him from the waiting room back to Dr. Parker's office and closed the door behind the both of them, Charles knew something was very wrong.

"Mr. Carson, we have Shrimpie's results back from the lab. Let me begin by saying we don't know what it is, but it's not an infection." He let that sink in for a moment, in reality it took Charles back four years to when he'd found himself in a similar conversation with Alice's second OB-GYN surgeon – the irony of considering him "the good doctor."

Dr. Mason continued, "We're glad you could bring Shrimpie in so soon. We'd like to take a tissue sample today and send that in. If we finish in the next little while, send it off yet today, we can probably have it back tomorrow and we go from there."

Charles heard himself ask the question, "What do you think it is?"

"We don't like to speculate Mr. Carson, malpractice and all."

"Dr. Parker, would you excuse us please?" Charles turned to the young doctor seated behind his desk the whole time.

"Of course, Mr. Carson." And he stood up and slipped out the door of his own office.

Charles was leaning against the backrest of the side chair, his grip digging into the fabric and foam underneath. "Dr. Mason, this sounds serious."

"Yes, I think it is."

Charles exhaled and transferred his hands to his temples pressing the bases of both hands hard against his forehead. "I should call Sybil. What do I tell her?"

"The truth."

"Which is?"

"In all likelihood, Shrimpie doesn't have very long to live."

Charles just looked at him. With a heavy heart, Charles replied, "Go get your sample then."

"I'll have Dr. Parker prep her. She's really going to be fragile tonight, best stay with her."

Dr. Mason left the office, leaving Charles alone.

He dialed Elsie. "Well that was quick!" she said cheerfully.

He sighed into the phone. "I'm guessing the hot pot place doesn't do take away."


	22. Chapter 22: Kenneled

Wednesday, 4 April 2018

Whilst Dr. Parker or Dr. Mason, or both - Charles wasn't certain of the particulars going on in the surgery room – worked on taking the tissue sample from Lady as Tuesday afternoon continued, Charles explained to Elsie the change in plans for the evening from Dr. Parker's office, going so far as to outright, and with apologies, cancel on her given how suddenly ill he felt.

Elsie understood completely, though she did offer to come over, bring him some food or such. His appetite was entirely gone. Elsie understood that too, but encouraged him not to go the whole night without eating. Lady needed him to be well; Charles barely noticed Elsie's referring to the dog by his preferred name. He knew there were some bits and bobs in the refrigerator and pantry, he would be fine. And though her company would be nice he didn't think he'd be much in return. "Let's hold off for tonight, see where things stand tomorrow," he concluded.

Elsie agreed, "Take it one day at a time - that's what I encourage my clients." A half smile appeared on Charles's face - he appreciated the professional support.

1:30 pm

This afternoon, however, Charles needed Elsie's personal support.

He had just hung up with Dr. Mason. The lab results were in. As both feared, Shrimpie's situation was dire - she had advanced bladder cancer. There was no certainty whether it had metastasized. Dr. Mason didn't think it really mattered at this point, she had two, three weeks at most was his professional estimation. She didn't seem to be in any pain which was a blessing, but he was going to messenger over some liquid pain medication nonetheless, and Charles had best connect with Sybil again to understand her wishes and discuss possibly putting Shrimpie to sleep. Perhaps she needed to speak directly with Dr. Mason.

When Elsie looked down at her phone and saw who was calling, she couldn't pick it up fast enough. "Charlie, how are things today?"

"Oh, Elsie. You aren't with a client? I, I wasn't sure of your schedule."

"I'm on a late lunch break - remembered my lunch today – another client is coming in at 2:00 and two more after that. You haven't answered my question."

"Not good. Not well - what's the right phrasing?" Charles sighed, the grammarian in him was having trouble finding the right words. "Lady is very unwell. In fact, she has final stage bladder cancer. I just heard from Dr. Mason."

"Oh, the poor thing. Charlie I'm so sorry. What can I do?"

"Come over tonight, please?"

"Of course, I'll be there as soon as possible. Maybe 6ish?"

"Whenever you are able. I'm going to apologize now, I'm not in very good spirits and Lady, well ..." His voice faded out again, unable to form the words.

"No need to apologize. Really, I understand, all too well. How about dinner?"

"No, no, I can't leave, Elsie."

"That's not what I meant. Do you have anything there or shall I bring something along for us? You need to eat."

"Um, there's not much. I haven't been to the market since, well, since before I left for Hampshire. There are some eggs, mandarins, condiments - "

"Well, I'm not Jamie Oliver or Delia Smith so I don't know what I could possibly come up with from that!" She was trying to make a joke to lighten the mood somewhat; she heard the single, brief chuckle escape him. He was trying. "No worries, Charlie. I'll finish here, walk and feed Igor and then swing by the market. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you."

"Of course. I'm sending you a big, virtual hug until I can deliver a real one to you."

"I can feel the virtual one and look forward to the real one."

He was no sooner off the call with Elsie than he dialed the front desk downstairs to advise that he was expecting a guest this evening, Ms. Elsie Hughes, and that whomever was on duty then should send her up whenever she arrived. He also inquired about the availability of the car service to take her home later.

6:15 pm

Based on her last experience visiting Charles, Elsie was surprised that Ti'ara didn't need to phone him that she had arrived, rather, the two were already to the lift when she heard a man call out her name from the left end of the lobby.

"Elsie? Elsie Hughes is that you?" Elsie and Ti'ara both stopped and Elsie turned, recognizing it was Simon Bricker.

"Oh, Simon! Hi, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you? My goodness, what brings you to our little corner of the world?" They greeted one another with kisses on each cheek.

"Ha! It doesn't seem so little to me, Simon. I'm heading up to see Charlie." Simon's expression told her that he didn't know whom she was speaking of. "Mr. Carson, and Shrimpie - er, Lady."

"Oh? Simon's look of surprise soon switched to subdued delight as he considered Elsie and "Charlie" Carson. "Oh, nice. Sorry, I, didn't realize you knew one another. But now that you mention it, I remember seeing the two of you chatting quite intensely at our party last month. And, perhaps you know that Lady stayed with us just last weekend whilst Mr. Carson was out of town."

"Aye, we spoke at the party, not realizing one another was in the crowd. And yes, that was very kind of you to dog sit. Charlie appreciated it greatly." She smiled, glowingly.

"It was our pleasure, she's just the cat's meow. Oh, wait, that doesn't sound quite right when speaking of a dog, does it?" he laughed.

"No, I'm afraid it doesn't!" Elsie laughed lightly along with him.

Pointing down at the two bags of groceries in her hands, Simon commented, "Something smells good in there, I shouldn't keep you. Please give Mr. Carson and Lady my best."

Elsie's professional discretion kicked in as she refrained from disclosing anything about what the situation was upstairs. "I will, Simon." Gesturing toward the lift, she asked, "Are you coming along?"

"No, thanks. It's a different elevator bank for me. Thank you, though! Have a wonderful evening, Elsie."

"Thank you, you as well," she said, whilst inwardly questioning how wonderful an evening might or might not be in store upstairs.

Elsie rode up to 30. This time, Charlie was not in the hallway waiting for her, and so she knocked on his dark green door. Waiting there a moment, she couldn't help looking around the hallway taking it in more than she had previously. Dark and rich wood paneling and marble flooring surrounded her. Another door on the wall opposite his blended right in with more of the raised panel look, Charlie's though was different, special, and then it opened slowly and part way.

"Hi," he said quietly, only one corner of his mouth raised in the slightest of smiles; his eyes told a different story. He was wearing jeans and his shirttails were hanging loose.

"Oh, Charlie." It broke her heart to see him standing there, his attire and especially body posture communicated defeat as he gestured her inside.

Elsie stepped forward, passing him, her arms still laden with the grocery bags. She set them down just inside the door and turned to him. As the door shut behind them both, Charles unexpectedly embraced her in a big bear hug. Her arms came up and wrapped around his back in response, he buried his head in the hair beside her right ear. Not that she wanted him to but Charles wasn't letting go and so she gently raised and lowered her hands against his back in an attempt to soothe him.

"Fucking cancer. Bloody fucking cancer," he said in no uncertain terms.

She waited some seconds before adding softly, "I know, Charlie, I know all too well."

At that, he straightened up and released his grip. He stepped back, Elsie's arms falling from his side, and looked her deep in the eyes. He was not sure what she meant exactly but there was a story there, only he wasn't in the right frame of mind to explore it further. Clearing his throat he went on, "Sorry about that. I'm so glad you're here Elsie, I've been going a little stir crazy up here. Other than taking Lady right outside, I haven't been out since I returned from the vet yesterday afternoon. Haven't seen anyone save for when I stopped to pick up Lady's medication from Ti'ara at the front desk. Haven't spoken to anyone other than her, another chap from the concierge team, and you. Oh, Sybil too. And Dr. Mason, of course. God, I'm so scattered I don't know which way is up."

"It's okay, Charlie. Where's Shrimpie now? I'm sorry, where's Lady?"

"In her bed."

"May I see her?"

"Of course." Elsie bent her knees to pick up the grocery bags but Charlie stopped her. "Let me get those." Lifting them up, he was surprised by their heft. "My word, when I told you what little was in my refrigerator, you must have decided to fill in every crevice."

"It doesn't all have to go in, for one there's rotisserie chicken in there. I thought we could have that tonight."

"It smells good." He put the bags down on the kitchen counter and walked to Elsie's side around the back of it. He held out his hand, "Come with me." Elsie threaded her fingers between his and followed Charles as he walked, slowly, deliberately deeper into the flat, past the living room setting where they had sat before the ballet and around the far side of the bookcase that had been to her back that afternoon. The window blinds were closed and just one warm low light lit the space they'd just walked in to. Charles stopped then and gestured downward with his other hand. Elsie's eyes followed his hand to the floor where she noticed a sleeping Lady curled up in a ball surrounded by a blue and green tartan print fabric. She looked up at Charles again, remorse written all over him. She squeezed his hand reassuringly and then released it as she sat down on the floor beside the dog bed, oblivious to the fact she was also in Charles's sleeping quarters.

Gently and repeatedly, Elsie ran her hand along the length of the dog's body from ear to tail, speaking to her quietly as well. So quietly that Charles, who was still standing above them both, had trouble hearing what Elsie was saying. Eventually she looked up at Charles and, wiping a tear from her eye, inquired, "How long has she been like this?"

Charles looked up and over to the clock on a shelf beyond the foot of his bed. Elsie's eyes followed his as she realized where they were. "Ah, Ti'ara's shift had just started so a little after 3:00. But really, other than when I pick her up to go outside, she's been here all day. Hasn't eaten a thing."

"And I'm guessing you haven't either." Elsie continued to pet the dog, surprisingly comfortable with the surroundings.

"No, not really. Porridge this morning, a cheese sandwich and a mandarin for lunch. I should take her out again, before too much more time passes."

"Well, why don't you do that now..." Elsie made to get up, first kneeling on both knees. Charles moved in front of her to help her up. Her face was right at the height of his crotch but since she looked up at him just then, neither really noticed as their hands came together and Elsie was soon pulled to a standing position. "Why don't you do that, and I'll pull dinner together." She squeezed his hand, encouraging him on."

"Yes, okay. Thank you, Elsie."

"I'm happy to help, Mr. Carson."

"You are, more than you know." Charles leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the lips before letting go of her hand. He bent down and lifted Lady up out of her bed, cradling her in both of his arms. The dog looked so tiny against those logs and his big barrel of a chest.

Elsie led their way out of the bedroom, through the living room and back to the kitchen. "I'm not sure what all you need," he said.

"Ah, carving board and knife, a covered dish to reheat some rice in or similar and a pan in which to cook some asparagus on the stovetop."

"Do you mind holding her? I can get that out for you easier than pointing out where it is all."

"Of course." Charles carefully transferred Lady into Elsie's waiting arms. As Charles opened various drawers and doors, Elsie's maternal instinct prompted her to not just hold Lady but to gently rock her. Charles noticed and it pleased him.

"That's all, yes?"

Surveying the kitchen equipment now out on the counter and cooktop, Elsie affirmed with an "Aye."

"Elsie, that reminds me. Back there, when you were first on the floor with Lady, I wasn't able to hear what you were saying to her. Were you speaking in Scottish?"

"Aye, m' eudail," and she smiled before nuzzling Lady on the neck.

Charles had no idea what she'd just said, just that it sounded delightful and made for the highlight of his day – other than her being here with him.

He took Lady back from her and advised that he wouldn't be gone long. If there was anything more she needed, feel free to dig around or he'd help when he returned. She waved him off with a simple but caring, "Go..." And so he did.

Elsie sorted out how to turn the oven on and began the preheating process to reheat the rice and chicken; the dish Charlie had gotten out would be large enough for both after she cut up one of the chickens. After washing her hands, she picked up the pan he'd removed for the asparagus and shrugged. It was a steamer and rack combination, one of those intended specially for asparagus. She'd never tried one before, normally using a simple all-purpose pan.

When Charles returned with Lady, Elsie had the chicken and rice in the oven and was waiting for the water to boil for the asparagus. The chicken carcass was on a plate off to the side and she was washing the cutting board. He commented once again that things smelled good as he approached, but continued on, explaining he was going to put Lady down and then wash up.

Reappearing from the bedroom, the first thing Elsie noticed was that he had put a jumper on and tucked his shirt in. "Dressing for dinner, Mr. Carson?" she teased, trying to take his mind off the situation with Lady.

"Not exactly white tie and tails, I know, but I wanted to express some respect and appreciation for your efforts."

"You had the tail thing going on earlier." He smiled down at her before sidling up and sharing a quick kiss on the lips once again. It felt nice, it felt right – to the both of them - Elsie's humming against his lips confirmed his efforts were appreciated as well.

"What may I do to help?"

"Pick a bottle of wine for us, assuming that's what you'd like to have; set the table please – I understand you're good at it; and I need a small vase for these." She'd pointed to a bunch of purple iris she'd brought along.

"Aye, captain," he saluted as he walked away.

A few minutes later they were eating a simple, comforting meal of chicken, basmati rice with herbs and shallots, and fresh asparagus. He was very appreciative, and complimentary. "Elsie, it smelled good before and now it tastes so good. Well done, and thank you." He raised his glass in a toast.

She chuckled, "I didn't exactly cook any of it, Charlie. All I did was carve and reheat some or boil water. You should be glad I didn't burn the whole building down; cooking has never been a strong suit of mine."

"Well, it's delicious."

"I'm glad you like it." As conversation continued, they chatted more about Lady, and what Sybil's reaction had been when he called her this afternoon. She was likely to call Dr. Mason to speak with him, concerned foremost for Shrimpie but also for Charles and Sybbie. After hearing from Charles on Tuesday, Sybil and Tom had spoken with their daughter, explaining that Shrimpie was "very sick."

"This will be the first time she's experienced death, really," he sighed. "She was just a toddler when Alice died and doesn't remember her, let alone her death. When I spoke with Sybil earlier with the latest info, she asked if I might help break the news to Sybbie later today, after she's home from school. Tom is able to come home early so they'll both be there, but she had a lot of questions yesterday and thinks it will help if I'm there to answer them." He dropped his head slightly and looked away, attempting to hide the tear that he wiped away, but Elsie had already noticed the water welling up in his eyes and was not fooled.

She reached across the table and gently squeezed his forearm, that one little gesture expressing so much compassion from her.

Charles exhaled loudly, having clearly finished with his meal a few minutes ago though there was half a drumstick on his plate uneaten. "I'll clean up, Charlie."

"No, no, you've done enough and I need to do something, sitting around all day is nothing I'm accustomed to," he said, standing up.

"Well, I'm at least going to help."

When they moved the plates and such to the kitchen, Charles noticed the other fresh veg and a container of stock that Elsie had apparently brought along, "What's all this?"

"I'm going to make a pot of soup from the leftovers. I bought an extra chicken and I want you to have enough food here to take you into the weekend."

"Yes, I think you're right. I fear I am going to be stuck here."

"Aye."

"But weekend? I know you have work and group tomorrow night so I understand that you can't come over tomorrow but what about Friday? Isn't that your day off?"

"It is, and whilst I wouldn't mind being stuck here with you, I'm afraid I have other commitments and I just can't get out of them."

"Oh?" It came out a combination of disappointment with intrigue given how he raised his right eyebrow.

"Becky's home, we caregivers of the residents have a rotation system that allows the fulltime caregiver, Miss Rose, to have a weekend. We each spend two consecutive nights there every six weeks or so. I'm afraid I had to miss my last rotation and I have to come through this time. I'm sorry."

"No, no, I understand. You need to do what you need to do. When is it exactly that you need to be over there?"

"Well, normally the rotations are Friday evening into Sunday evening but Rose and her beau have some function they're going to tomorrow evening. So I'll go there after group and stay into Saturday about 6:30."

It sounded like forever again until he might see her. "So perhaps after that you'll be free?" He looked so hopeful.

"Ugh, I'm afraid not Charlie. I've a lasses' craft night at my neighbour's Saturday night and honestly, it's all for me, so I have to be there. Beryl and some other friends are coming over and everything."

"Oh." The way he now raised both of his eyebrows communicated his skepticism of the gathering.

"I'm bringing a few things over to Becky's and she and her roommates are going to help me prep and get organized. It will be fun for them and help me a lot." She could see the ever-increasing disappointment on his face. "But, I promise you'll see me on Sunday." Sensing her looking at him, waiting for some reaction, Charles simply responded with a half smile.

Reading the clock on the wall oven, Charles's face turned into a frown. "Elsie are you in a rush to get home? If you are, please just say so. I don't mean for you to make me a charity case."

"You are not a charity case, nor do I need to rush home. Why do you ask?"

"This is going to sound terribly selfish, but I have to get out of here, especially if I'm going to holed up here for…for who knows how long. Would you mind terribly if I went downstairs for a swim, half hour or so? I just have to get some of my bottled up energy out."

"I'd be happy for you to do that. It sounds like a good idea. Go and don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'll work on the soup and keep an eye on Lady for you."

"I need to let my food digest a little more. Let me help with the dishes and clean up so that you have the space you need to work on that and by the time we get to that point, I can go down."

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Carson."

Charles was glad, even standing at the counter drying dishes and putting them away was more than he'd done in the last day and a half. Soon after they were finished, Elsie shooed him away to go for his swim. He went to change in the master en suite, returning a couple minutes later wearing a blue dressing gown, navy shower shoes and a white towel draped over his left shoulder, a small mesh bag in his right hand.

"Elsie?" He startled her as he walked out of the bedroom and she nearly cut herself for she was working on the Mise en Place. Elsie may not be much of a cook, but she was organized.

As he walked toward her, she took more of him in than she'd seen before. His bare feet, bare legs from the calves down, and a wedge of bare chest right below his neck. As he came closer still, the overhead can lights reflected on a pale, almost clear, chest hair or two. No matter what she'd seen him wearing before – jeans and shirttails earlier tonight included – he had always struck her as handsome, but right now he looked _sexy_! She found muscles in her most private areas clenching involuntarily.

She swallowed deeply and to get her mind off of such impure thoughts, found herself commenting on the contents she could make out in the mesh bag. "Wow, you're serious about this – goggles and a swim cap!"

He held the bag up for her to see better, "And nose clip. I carry the bag with me so I will always remember my keys and nose clip. Are you _sure_ you don't mind my leaving you for a while?"

"Please, I think it will be good for you. I have a little more chopping to do and then I'll get the stock going whilst I debone the other chicken."

"Other chicken?"

"Yes, I brought two with the intent of dinner tonight, the soup and then thinking you could have some more on hand for sandwiches or such. I have plenty of celery, if you have mayo in the fridge, I could make you some of my ma's chicken salad."

"Thank you, that all sounds wonderful and it will keep me for the next few days, I'm sure."

"Oh yes, and I also have a container of frozen lasagna and meatballs that Beryl sent home with me Saturday evening."

"All that sounds fine, Elsie. If there's nothing else you need right now, I'm going to head down to the pool."

"I'll be right here. We'll be right here. Go."

Charles was gone for some 45 minutes in total. Elsie had the chicken carcasses simmering in the stockpot for a while along with some of the vegetables to extract the maximum flavor. When the bones were clear of meat she added more shredded chicken, and the rice to the pot. When she had the assorted tools cleaned and put away, she judged the soup sufficiently cooked and turned the burner off. And then she had nothing more left to do.

She checked her phone and answered one email from a member of her Thursday evening group, the rest of the messages could wait until the morning. She refreshed her wine and checked in on Lady who was still curled up in the dog bed. She also looked around the bedroom itself. All things considered, it was actually quite spartan. She noticed that although the bed was made, it wasn't made very well. Elsie Hughes could make a bed with the best of them and was quick to judge others' bed-making skills.

She strolled away, feeling a bit like she was invading Charles's privacy by being in there and wandered over to his office on the other side of the living room, a bank of flat files being the only thing that divided the two settings. Nothing was out of the ordinary there. Her eye was caught by an old photo laying loose on the desk blotter. She picked it up to study it closer and recognized one of the two lads in the photo as Charlie – a much younger, much thinner Charlie – complete with longer, dark wavy hair.

He was standing in a tee-shirt and shorts straddling a bike, his arms raised in victory, enormous sweat stains under his arms while the other fellow he was with was sitting on the ground, his disgruntled face in one hand, the other arm straight up giving Charlie "the bird." She giggled, it all looked like great sophomoric fun of some sort but what struck her as she looked closer was how much the other chap looked like her brother Aaron. She sighed deeply, memories of his young life extinguished so unnecessarily.

She wandered out into the living room then and found herself drawn to the window like she had been 10 days ago. She had finished her wine for now and put it down on the low end table right there. She was looking out the window again when she heard Charles's voice at last, "You wondered what it looked like at night. Now you know. What do you think?"

She turned and watched him continue a series of long strides toward her. His hair was wet and mussed now, droplets of water rolling down his neck and lower legs and a dampness in the dressing gown made it cling to his torso in places. "Gorgeous," she said, speaking as much about the view behind her and out the window as the one now standing in front of her. She snapped out of her reverie then and asked, "How was the water?"

"Wet and wonderful!" He came and unexpectedly nuzzled her neck. The swim had done wonders for him. "Mmmm, it smells good in here, and you too, my dear Elsie."

"That's good, because you smell of chlorine."

"Sorry, I suppose so." He straightened up and took a step back. "Lady been okay for you?" She nodded the affirmative. "I need to call Sybil soon. Sybbie should be home from school about 8:30 our time." Reaching out for her right hand with his own, he continued, "I'd like you to be here when I do that. I was thinking about it during my laps. I could use the support, truthfully."

"Of course, I'm in no rush."

"Good. But since I have a few minutes yet, do you mind if I take a quick shower, rinse this chlorine smell off my body."

"I think that's an excellent idea. I'll be fine yet. The soup is cooling on the cook top and everything else is put away. I wouldn't mind catching the news, though. Perhaps I could watch the telly whilst you're showering?"

"Sure, it's in the den. I'll join you there when I'm out. Would you mind if I bring Lady and her bed in there as well? I won't be able to hear her in the shower and the den's way over there behind the office."

"By all means." Charles had Elsie follow him to the den and got her settled in one of the Eames chairs, feet up on the ottoman, and with the remote. He also turned on the gas fireplace. Then he went and retrieved Lady, setting her down right inside the door to the den, still in her bed. "I'll be back in a few."

"I'm not going anywhere." Charles left but it wasn't a minute later that Elsie went back on her words realizing she'd like a little more wine and so she left the den to retrieve her glass.

She walked to the kitchen, at first perplexed when she didn't see the glass on the counter where it had been the whole time she'd been working on the soup. And then she remembered she had set it down on the table in the living room. She walked over to the table, had just picked up the glass, and was turning around to return to the kitchen. Only she was stopped in her tracks by an unobstructed view of the bare backside of a naked-as-the-day-he-was-born Charlie Carson walking from beside his bed toward the en suite beyond.

Elsie nearly dropped the glass in shock! Her face turned red and her other hand covered her mouth to keep any sound from escaping. She was surprised he did not hear her, and glad he evidently did not see her either, for he kept walking and disappeared as he turned a corner. She heard running water a second later and bee-lined her way back to the kitchen. Her heart beating fast, she proceeded to pour another half glass for herself.

Although Elsie hadn't seen much, what she did see she liked - _very_ much. And so she raised that glass to the memory of Alice Carson – for designing a bedroom that wasn't really a room and certainly had no doors!


	23. Chapter 23: Vet Bill

Saturday 7 April 2018

4:00 pm

Beryl Mason loved any excuse to cook, especially for a crowd, and tonight's gathering of herself and eight other women was especially meaningful to her. It had become an annual tradition over many years with three regular participants through all of them: Beryl, Elsie, and their one-time roommate from some 30 years ago, Phyllis Baxter-Molesley.

The occasion was a lasses' night only gathering to have dinner together, drink more than their fair share, and work on creating "Team Elsie uniforms" for the overnight breast cancer fundraising walk they all would participate in—to greater and lesser degrees—during the month of May.

Elsie herself was a breast cancer survivor, and the common link in tonight's group whether as a long-time friend (to Beryl and Phyllis), mentor/counselor (to Gwen Dawson and Edith Parks), or a newer friend (to Anna Bates, Lavinia Mason and Daisy Robinson). Elsie had informed both Anna and Beryl earlier in the week that also she'd invited a new acquaintance from her professional building, Isobel Crawley, to the festivities.

Beryl had asked Phyllis to bring the ingredients for "Pink Bikini" cocktails made from pink lemonade, amaretto and coconut flavored rum (available in a virgin form, as well). Others were supplying the (rosé) wine or the venue as was the case tonight for Anna whilst Beryl _always_ supplied the food.

Beryl felt especially clever about tonight's menu. The appetizer course was pink grapefruit salsa with corn crisps followed by a main course of roast turkey breast, mashed potatoes with beet juice (that when mixed together formed a _very_ pink colour), Pink Lady apple/ Pink Celebration radish/ guava salad, and homemade crescent rolls in acknowledgement of the nighttime.

Elsie, still at Becky's, had just hung up the phone with Charles. The daily Shrimpie well-being reports over the last few days had actually been the source of their first tiff. After being on the sidelines to overhear his Wednesday evening conversation with Sybil from Boston, Elsie understood the young woman's anguish over the declining health of her dog. And the genuine tears from her little girl and the comfort delivered to the little lass in Charles's impromptu words from across the ocean were together heartbreaking and heartwarming. That 10 minute Facetime conversation and the minutes that followed of Charles weeping in Elsie's midst alone communicated exactly how much the young mother and daughter meant to him.

But when she heard on Thursday of Sybil's request to hold off until Monday in putting Shrimpie to sleep – provided there was no obvious signs of suffering before then – it struck her as terribly inconsiderate toward Charles, especially after he acknowledged that his palsy was acting up from the stress and he had no way to leave for a treatment at Isobel's; it was "out of the question" in his words. The dog had begun to fall down on a slippery slope of decline; there was no way she would make it two weeks as Dr. Mason had projected.

At least Elsie had been able to convince Charles to tap into a resource within the South Bank Tower to temporarily alleviate some of his stress during a time when she was unable to help. Little did Charles know that Elsie had been working behind the scenes from Becky's by proactively calling Thomas Barrow herself, asking him to please help Charlie when he called. At Elsie's urging, Charles did call Thomas who, when learning of Shrimpie, agreed without hesitation to sit with her on Friday to allow Charles time for brief escape from the flat. And there was a ripple effect to Elsie's good will; earlier today, Mary Talbot and George had stopped by unannounced – similarly alerted by Thomas Barrow about the situation at Mr. Carson's - after they had returned from George's football game, to visit Charles and the dog.

Whilst Elsie was glad to hear of these distractions for him, she was ever more upset with Sybil, whom, aside from Isobel, was the closest she'd come so far to meeting anyone in Charles's life. Elsie just found it terribly unfair what Sybil's request was putting him through. But again, Charles left no doubt that he would do whatever it takes for "his girls."

5:30 pm

Along with Lavinia, once she had arrived fresh off the train from York, Beryl had been busy all day creating what she considered the coup de grâce for tonight's pudding: personalized versions of the famous Australian coconut and sponge cake Pink Lamingtons intended to pay tribute to everyone's "girls." She was certain all were expecting some strawberry frozen custard or conventional pink frosted layer cake as she had delivered in previous years, but this year's creation put both of those past triumphs to shame.

Bill Mason had just helped his wife and daughter-in-law carry several armfuls of food and crafts from their car into the home of Anna and John Bates, casual acquaintances by way of Elsie. After nearly 30 years of marriage, Bill was accustomed to his wife's joy for cooking and feeding others. He thought tonight, though, she may have gone over the top!

Preparations for the gathering had begun right after the new year when registration for the charity walk opened. The women – minus Isobel of course, and Lavinia who was represented by Beryl – had all gathered and taken part in a "grab bag" exchange then to understand who would be creating uniforms for whom by blindly pulling old brassieres each had supplied from a series of identical paper bags. Tonight they were gathering to create one another's uniforms with those old bras as their bases. "Anything goes" was the best way to describe the design parameters.

By arriving early, Beryl and Lavinia were able to help Anna set up whilst the turkey and mash were reheating. Next to arrive was Phyllis Baxter-Molesley. As the seamstress in the group, she was proud to add to the pinkness of the evening by wearing her homemade Dolores Umbridge costume. She looked smashing!

As the food, women and supplies kept pouring in through his front door, John Bates was beginning to get a clearer sense of the estrogen and alcohol-fueled debauchery soon to begin under his roof. Anna had already advised that he might wish to make himself scarce. So the plan was for John to eat an early dinner at home, take Igor for a long walk after Elsie arrived, and then return to Elsie's with the dog and the baby until the ladies all went home.

Among the last to arrive was the guest of honour, fresh off two full days at Becky's, and herself laden with two bags of supplies for the party. She was accompanied by Isobel Crawley whom she introduced to the others simply as one of her work neighbours– with no mention of Charlie, a request that she made of Isobel as well, explaining she wasn't quite ready to reveal her new relationship yet given her poor record with men, and her longest, dearest friends' familiarity with those pathetic details from her past. As one who was currently juggling the affections of two new men in _her_ life, Isobel was perfectly fine respecting Elsie's request.

7:25 pm

Bill Mason was home alone queueing up the second rugby match of the evening featuring Team England; he'd DVR'd both this morning from the Hong Kong Sevens tournament with the full knowledge of his bachelor night ahead this evening. Only he wasn't going to have the chance to watch match #2, Shrimpie Branson had other ideas that prompted his pager to go off.

That was seldom a good thing and all too common an occurrence the last several weekends. Looking down and recognizing the number, Bill grimaced at what this likely meant. Bill returned the call immediately and heard a familiar deep, masculine voice on the other end pick up right after the second ring, "Charles Carson."

"Mr. Carson, Bill Mason. My after-hours call service just notified me you called. What's going on over there?" The dog hadn't eaten since Tuesday, took her last drink on Friday and was no longer urinating nor able to stand on her own when Charles took her out.

Stating what should have been obvious, Charlies replied "It's Shrimpie. She's fading, Dr. Mason. Her breathing patterns changed earlier this evening and now she's really laboring, I'm afraid. I don't think it's right to prolong this any longer."

Bill Mason looked at his watch. "I can meet you at the office in 15 minutes. I assume you can bring her in?"

"Yes, I'll do that. Thank you, doctor."

Charles knew from his daily chats with Sybil over the last few days that she had spoken directly with Dr. Mason. And all three knew what her wishes were regarding the dog's end of life. In truth, Charles had known those wishes since he had been asked to be Shrimpie's caretaker two plus years ago when the Branson family left for America. The talk then had all just been hypothetical theory, now it was real.

Like so many other pet owners, Sybil was having trouble coming to grips with the news of her beloved dog being on her deathbed but her training and practice as a nurse had kicked in over the last couple of days after the initial shock of Charles's call. No suffering for Shrimpie was the ultimate goal. However, whilst she knew it was a huge inconvenience for Charles, Sybil hoped they could delay putting Shrimpie to sleep until after this weekend out of consideration of her other child's suffering.

Her young daughter was due to perform in a ballet recital late this afternoon in Boston and the girl was already struggling just with the news that the dog was so very ill. It had helped for her to see Shrimpie again via Facetime, all but unresponsive and balled up in her bed back in "CC's" flat in London. As the little girl said her name aloud again and again, it was increasingly spoken through tears. It was also vital for Sybbie to speak with her Godfather who adored her and would do anything for her, including sacrifice his own physical and social well-being for a few days if it meant giving Sybbie a better chance to be prepared for/ undistracted by death.

8:40 pm

As the evening wore on at Anna's and the women were elbow deep in pink fabric swatches, sequins, baubles, beads, appliqués and the like, Beryl called a pudding time out and went to the kitchen to retrieve the Lamingtons. She delivered a big wine, rum and amaretto-fueled preamble to the puddings before having Lavinia distribute them to their individual owners, beginning with Phyllis.

Phyllis, who was of medium build on top, received a pair of half sphere-shaped Lamingtons covered in a shell of flesh-tone coloured chocolate, darker pink chocolate "areolas" each topped with a red jelly tot candy as a nipple. Everyone laughed good-naturedly at Phyllis's set and applauded Beryl for the efforts but the ladies really started hooting when the other sets were each revealed and recognized as being modeled rather realistically after everyone's respective bosoms – little conical peaks for Daisy for example and "double Ds" for Beryl who never failed to demonstrate she could laugh at herself.

Beryl was deliberate in saving the best for last – two pancake flat disks for Elsie, only one with a "nipple." It was delivered with a big, genuine hug and Elsie took it in stride – yes, swearing at and flipping her good friend off – knowing full well the love those "breasts" were made with, and that all were here for her in salute to her ongoing survivorship. And in the end, Beryl shared one of her Lamingtons with Elsie.

Of course, Isobel was new to this circle and Beryl not knowing what would walk through the door had actually made three different "Isobels" in anticipating every condition. Yet the biggest shock to Isobel was just Elsie's double mastectomy; she never would have guessed just looking at Charles's new friend.

Much to Elsie's disappointment, the conversation morphed to talking about the lad who'd run away from her during that whole life-changing ordeal years ago. John had been unable to cope with the changes it wreaked on her body and their love life; he'd simply bolted, never to be heard from again.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Daisy then brought up the disappointment her most recent – now ex-boyfriend – brought to her by breaking up a week before Valentine's Day this year, leaving to take up with another woman. That just opened the door to Beryl sharing the rest of the Elsie love life "highlight reel" of the last 20 odd years, aka her sad history with men: Paul – the sweet one whom she'd let get away – and Richard "the Dick/Ring-go" Carlisle whom Elsie had finally herself rejected 5 years ago. Though there had been others that didn't last as long as those chaps, it was this trio that Elsie had paired with the longest, providing Beryl one of her all-time favorite lines, specifically that Elsie was, "One George short of the Beatles!"

Elsie just rolled her eyes, she'd heard it all before – multiple times. As Beryl never tired of retelling it, Elsie endured it multiple times over the years and she did so by tuning out the storyteller. It was less from angst with her friend's embellishments as silently thinking, everyone – including Beryl – _always_ forgets there was a 5th Beatle… For the real Beatles there was Stuart Sutcliffe, for Elsie there was Joe Burns, the boy next door back in Argyll. No one ever talks about them…least of all Elsie.

Bill Mason called his wife and happened to curtail her storytelling as she scampered to the kitchen to speak with him privately. He called with the news that Shrimpie "Lady" Grantham Branson (Carson) had died at the Yew Tree Veterinary Clinic that evening after he had administered an intravenous barbiturate.

The vet had called his wife after he and Charles Carson had signed the necessary paperwork and Charles was headed home, a stone plus lighter than he'd arrived an hour before. Bill had some clean up to do yet but wanted to inquire when she and Lavinia would need to be picked up, he was out with the car after all and interested in saving a trip in Saturday night traffic.

Charles had headed back to South Bank Tower on foot. He needed both the air and the exercise after two emotional conversations: first the instructions to Bill Mason to euthanize the little dog that had been his near constant if not sole companion for the last many months and second, the call to Sybil just a few minutes after Dr. Mason had carried out those instructions.

Charles heard Sybil thank him over and over for _all_ that he'd done to care and comfort Shrimpie. Yet she unfortunately needed to cut their conversation short as she now needed to care and comfort Sybbie who, upon overhearing her mother's conversation with Charles, was about to be sick.

That's just about how Charles was feeling and why he opted to walk back home tonight. He knew he would probably interrupt Elsie's lasses only night but she'd encouraged him to _please_ call if anything happened.

9:15 pm

When Charles walked into the South Bank Tower lobby, Lady's animal carrier empty in his hand, Alfred who was on duty now as well as when Mr. Carson had rushed out the door an hour ago, was able to deduce what had transpired in the meantime. The tall redhead only had voice to say the dog's name before it trailed off and Charles could only shake his head with a mournful look on his face as he stepped into the lift, the doors closing behind him. Shortly thereafter, Elsie's phone rang with a call from Charles. She excused herself to take the call in the kitchen as Beryl had before.

Beryl and Phyllis were especially concerned when Elsie excused herself. Elsie had a reputation for not letting any call interrupt whatever she was doing unless it was Becky or Martha. So naturally, Beryl feared there was something wrong with one of the two of them. Phyllis had similar anxiety about such a possibility; she had her own constant fears as a mother of grown daughter with special needs.

"She's gone," were the first words Elsie heard Charles say. "We had to put her down tonight. I'm just back from the vet and wanted you to know. I'm sorry if I'm disrupting your fun."

"Charlie, I asked you to call me if anything happened and unfortunately it has. I'm so very sorry that you had to go through that tonight. The last few days have been very rough on you." He said nothing, for it was all true. "I can't imagine we'll be out of here before 10:00 or 10:30, if you'd like, I can come over then."

"Thank you, no, that won't be necessary. I've just poured myself a Scotch and I can admit to you I'm simply exhausted. The strain of the last few days is catching up with me, quickly. Get back to your friends, I just wanted you to know. Call me in the morning, please."

"You know what always helps me relax is a hot soak in the tub, Charlie. Charlie?" He'd hung up on her. Even so soon into their relationship, Elsie knew he wasn't acting himself.

"Who's Charlie?" Beryl was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, the latest empty wine bottle in her left hand, an empty wine glass in her right. She'd overheard the last of Elsie's exchange with Charles. Only she didn't know whom Elsie had been speaking with.

Elsie sighed, putting her phone away."A friend who was dealt some very bad news tonight."

"Oh. And he – I presume it's a he – called you with that news because?"

Shit. Elsie knew this was the wrong alcohol-induced way to inform Beryl about her and Charlie but bugger it. "He called me because we've been seeing one another, for the last few weeks."

Beryl glared at Elsie, not very pleased to learn in this inadvertent way about her dating someone again. "And what instrument does he play?" she hiccupped.

CECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: RIP Shrimpie…apologies to the guest who didn't want her to die, but it had to happen to move Chelsie along.


	24. Chapter 24: Cleaning Up After Your Dog

Sunday, 8 April 2018

After disconnecting with Elsie Saturday evening, Charles realized his bad manners in not extending a proper goodbye to her of any sort, and so he had texted his apologies to Elsie for the oversight. There was no excuse for it in his mind. Yet Elsie proved kind-hearted when she replied to his text sometime after 11:00 pm:

 _You most certainly have an excuse. Nonetheless, apology accepted. Get some rest, talk to you in the am, - E_

Charles was on the phone with Sybil when Elsie's text had come in. Whilst Sybbie didn't feel well upon learning Shrimpie had died, at least she had not vomited as Sybil had originally feared was going to be the case. In fact, with a little pep talk from Tom, encouraging her that "CC, Donk, Granny and everyone back home would want her to 'carry on' with the recital", they were able to get her into her tutu and drive to the performance venue. Only when it was time to go out on stage she couldn't, collapsing in tears again over Shrimpie. It just compounded Sybbie's misery as she felt she was letting her fellow dancers and instructor down. Tom carried his sobbing little girl in his arms back to the car.

Charles asked Sybil what she wanted him to do with the dog's belongings: the dog beds, chew toys, kennel, animal carrier, toys, food and water bowl, bike trailer…she needed a couple days, but probably donate them. They'd speak again soon about all that.

As Charles was finally readying for bed, he noticed the dog bed in his bedroom, the one where Lady had spent so many hours not just the last several days but far longer. He could not bear to look at it and so he moved it to the laundry room, placing it on top of her kennel.

7:10 am

Charles had not slept terribly well last night and awoke shortly after sunrise. He pottered around the flat some, making himself a pot of coffee and some breakfast. He was out of his routine already by eating before he showered. When, on his way to the en suite, Charles stepped into the laundry to deposit his pants and saw Lady's kennel and bed, vowing as soon as he was dressed again, he would gather up her other things so that everything was all together.

When he was finished with those small tasks, it looked to be a glorious spring day – finally. Knowing how out of sorts he'd felt the last several days due to insufficient exercise, he decided to make lemonade out of lemons and head out for a bike ride, something he hadn't been able to do for a couple of weeks now, for various reasons.

He headed east along the Thames to the North Circular Road and followed that around north and west, on the perimeter of the city. Around East Finchley he headed south and crisscrossed the interior of Hampstead Heath. As he rode through the park where there was no threat of traffic, his thoughts wandered, first to Elsie. He'd suggested they come here sometime when it was warmer, and it was very definitely starting to be warmer.

And then he thought back to when he'd made that suggestion, gosh when was it? A Sunday, he was certain about that. Last Sunday was Easter, the Sunday before then the ballet, it must have been three weeks ago already that he'd brought it up on their way to Battersea Park. Charles was shocked to realize how time was flying, and how much had happened in those three weeks. Countering Lady's passing were the many pleasantries Elsie had added to his life during this time – near nightly conversations, companionship, hand-holding, and kisses on the lips. He realized then and there that he missed those lips.

And so he rode on as intended to the Hampstead Hearth to see what sweet things the bakery had to offer today. He looked briefly at the counter before using the loo. Before he placed his order, he called Elsie.

8:55 am

After letting Igor out and feeding him, Elsie had crawled back into bed, enjoying a rare quiet morning all to herself. Yet when she heard her phone ring, reached over and saw that it was Charlie calling, she was pleased. "Hello, Charlie."

"Good morning," he said. His voice was even deeper than usual they both thought! "Sorry, I haven't spoken with anyone yet this morning, or anything – I used to have many one way conversations with Lady of a morning. That, of course, hasn't been the case today."

"No, I suppose not…how did you sleep?"

"Not so well, but I expect it will take a few days. How about you?"

"Quite well; good food and lots to drink will usually do it for me. Though I'll confess to be enjoying a most unusual lie-in." Suddenly speculative images of Elsie curled up in a cotton nightie – or less – filled his mind and quickened his heart rate more than any of the pedaling he'd already done this morning had. "And you? Are you lounging around your flat in the sky, staring out at that gorgeous view of our fair city?"

"Not at all. In fact, I'm speaking to you from my favourite bakery up in Hampstead, having ridden one of my bikes up here this morning. I wondered if I might pick up something for you – a sweet for my sweet you might say." Oh, he was a charmer! "I also wonder if you're planning to go for your training walk today – it's really quite pleasant out."

"You have a one track mind, Mr. Carson – sweets, that is. And how it is you've thought of my training walk after all you've been through of late is beyond me. But yes, I do need to do that today." Elsie had rolled over onto her side, her hand holding the top of the sheet up off her body as she made to get out of bed.

When Charles asked, "Well, may I join you?" she pictured his bare backside – the one she'd caught a glimpse of last Wednesday evening – standing there, neck craned over one shoulder and looking down at her as if he were asking to join her in the bed.

"I'm sorry, say again," she bit down on her lower lip. Elsie Hughes was no stranger to impure thoughts but since last Wednesday evening she had a clearer picture of Charles in such thoughts.

"May I join you on your walk? I'll need to stop home and grab a different pair of shoes, but I'd very much like to join you. You have a way of steadying me, Elsie."

Flatterer, she thought. As a mischievous smile crept onto her face, she replied, "Sure…you can even hold my hand, Mr. Carson."

He wasn't expecting that to be added, but it pleased him and he straightened up accordingly, "I think I will hold your hand…", his voice trailed off.

"Right then, you come by my place Charlie. You have the address yet from the night you walked me home, yes? Shall I expect you within the hour?"

He had no idea what time it was exactly and certainly couldn't read the tiny text on his phone that spelled it out. "Yes, something like that. For now, I will be a gentleman this time around and say goodbye for now, Elsie."

"Okay, bye, Charlie!" Elsie skedaddled downstairs to eat a quick breakfast so she'd have something in her stomach before their walk. She caught Igor off guard with how fast she was suddenly moving after previously lazing about. Looking around her kitchen, dining room and into the living room, she came to the realization that there was much she needed to do to make her place presentable for Charles on his first visit inside her place. He had his amazing professionally-designed flat in one of the signature residential buildings of London and she had…this, a run-of-the-mill row house in a middle to upper middle class neighbourhood, filled with a few bits of no-name furniture she'd purchased on her own whenever she had two quid to rub together – which wasn't often – or some nicer hand-me-downs from when Martha moved to Times of Endearment.

Well, she couldn't do anything about the furniture or "decorating" right now, but she could at least put away the leftover craft materials and her Team Elsie uniform that Phyllis had made for her and the half-finished Team Elsie sports bra she'd started last night for Becky. She hauled that all upstairs to the guest room and shut the door to ensure Igor wouldn't get at any of it when she wasn't looking.

Elsie also emptied the load of laundry she'd started last night as she came home from Becky's – bras and knickers mainly – draping them over the towel rack, and shower curtain rod to dry in the upstairs loo. By now, time was getting tight before Charles would arrive and so for that reason and concern that her hair would be far too wet when they left for the walk, she opted for a quick sponge bath and deodorant rather than a full shower. She was just tying her second shoe when her phone rang. "Now, why's he calling instead of just ringing the bell?" she thought. Only it wasn't Charles, it was Beryl. "Damn and blast" she muttered before picking up the phone, figuring she'd better get this ugly business over.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"That I'm dating someone? When I bloody well felt like it."

"Uh-huh," Beryl harrumphed. "Must be quite a musician you've got yourself again," prompting Elsie to roll her eyes. Beryl just couldn't leave that Beatles joke alone.

"I'm not dating a musician, I'm dating a gentleman. A real gentleman."

"Like you have time to go and meet a real gentleman with the life you live, Elsie."

"For your information, Beryl Mason, you're the one who introduced us."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Charlie is Charles Carson, he the former guardian of the recently departed Shrimpie Branson – he called her Lady. And he's been treating me like a lady over the last month or so, because he's a real gentleman!"

Beryl Mason was flabbergasted! "Charles Carson, you're dating Charles Carson? Why I wanted to introduce you is beyond me, he's nothing but a pervert!"

"You're off your rocker, Beryl!" The doorbell had just rung. "I've gotta go!"

"Is that –" Elsie didn't let her finish before she'd hung up. She knew the conversation would continue another time.

9:40 am

Elsie dashed downstairs to both quiet a barking Igor and to answer the door. Just to be sure, she did check the peephole and confirmed it was Charles before opening it. He was standing there in a lighter weight version of the athletic gear he'd worn when they first ran into one another in Greenwich Park those many weeks ago: black semi-fitted cycling trousers and a red windbreaker. His bike helmet was in one hand, a small white paper bag in the other, whilst his bike was lying on the sidewalk at the base of her steps.

"Hi Elsie, it's so good to see you," he smiled. "I'm wondering where can I put my bike. I have a lock, but I don't like to just leave it here on the sidewalk."

"Why don't you bring it in, we can leave it here in the entry."

"You sure? There's no mud on it that I'm aware of but I don't want to make a mess."

"Charlie, my whole house is a mess thanks to my crazy dog running around like he owns the place." Charles grimaced with a quick recollection of Lady. "Oh, I'm so sorry – I shouldn't have said that! It was very insensitive of me."

"It's okay, Elsie. There's a lot of new ground to cover in this post-Lady world of mine, best start today. I'll just go get my bike – if you're sure."

"Bring it on, we can handle it." With that, Charles hopped down the steps to his white bike. The scene prompted a momentarily flashback to the last time a lad had ridden his bike over to see her. Growing up, Joe Burns did that all the time. When they were little – Joe was a year younger than Elsie – it took Joe all of 10 minutes to ride over from his family's farm to her da's; as Joe grew, the ride time was trimmed to 5.

Elsie stepped aside for him as Charles came in through the front door wheeling his bike. "Right there is fine," she pointed to the low bench below the coat pegs. "You can leave your helmet there too." He put both down and then turned to her, extending the bag marked with a logo and Hampstead Hearth Bakery. "Thanks, maybe later." He nodded in understanding. "Please, come in. I'm just about ready, only need to put my jacket on –", she was walking deeper into her home, her back to him.

"Elsie." She turned, a questioning look on her face. He sighed, "I've spent the last 3.5 days more or less alone with a dying dog." He paused and then slumped his shoulders. "What more does a lad need to do to get a hug in this world?"

Now it was her turn to have forgotten her manners. She was embarrassed and covered her face with both her hands shaking her head left and right. "Ugh, you're right and I'm wrong. Forgive me." She walked over to him then, arms outstretched and welcoming him with a hug in which she placed her face against his chest. His hands dropped down to her lower back but hadn't let her go yet when she asked, teasingly, "3.5 days you say?"

"Mmmhmm."

She leaned back so she could study his face. Before either of them knew what she was doing, she had looped her left arm over his shoulder and was fingering the hair at the nape of his neck. With her right hand, she traced his lower lip back and forth with her thumb, then ran her index finger up his cheek bone toward his temple. She twirled the errant curl hanging over his forehead around that same finger before trying to tuck it back into place. "3.5 days is a very long and lonely time, Mr. Carson. I think it deserves more than a hug." And with that, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

Charles returned the kiss and soon they were engaged in a series of eyes-closed kisses on the lips, each deeper than the last. After a few, Charles tried to get her attention between kisses, "Elsie?"…kiss… "Elsie?" Finally she answered him.

"What Charlie?"

"I think we'd better be going for that walk."

"Why?" she kissed him again, silencing him once more, briefly.

"Because your dog is humping my leg!"

Her eyes shot open and she backed away to see Igor up on his hind legs, the length of his body up against Charles's leg. She was mortified as she shooed him away. Charles could do nothing but laugh. The kisses had felt good and laughing did too, albeit in a different sort of way.

As the three headed out the door, Charles suggested in the spirit of continued exploring, perhaps today they might head north across the Thames and west, with Hyde Park as the destination and thus that is where they were headed: two adults, one dog, a leash, bags, a collapsible dog bowl, one ball launcher and two grungy tennis balls. As before on their previous park visits together, Igor loved it when it came time to play fetch with Charles. And Charles and Elsie loved holding hands – the whole way, to and fro – along with exchanging a few stolen kisses.

On the way to Hyde Park, Charles shared more of the last few days, consciously sparing Elsie of the uglier parts. She asked what he planned to do with Lady's things. It wasn't like he expected to have a dog again and Sybil and her generous nature was likely to choose to donate them to an animal shelter or such. Charles thought he'd probably bring them to Yew Tree in a few days when he would pick up Lady's ashes and ask the Masons to relay them on. Elsie didn't mention anything about Beryl, directly, though she was still on Elsie's mind.

As they had circled the Park and were approaching Royal Albert Hall – one of his favourite buildings in London – Charles stopped them and relished sharing the rich architectural history of the concert hall.

"Charlie, do you play an instrument?" He did not. "Did you ever?"

"Air guitar in my younger days. You should have seen me dancing around looking like an 80s fool!"

"I bet you were cute, you and your curly mop top!" He blushed slightly but wouldn't deny it, instead just briefly squeezed her hand a little extra.

They came back through Westminster, crossing the Thames on the Lambeth Bridge. They were over the water when conversation turned to the London Eye some 2/3rds of a mile off to their left and Elsie admitted she'd never been on it. Charles had a couple of times, shortly after it had opened and again when Cora's brother from New York visited and wanted to ride it and Robert had roped Charles into joining them.

Charles was getting hungry; he said as much, whilst acknowledging it was already after his usual luncheon time to begin with and in addition to these 3.5 hours of walking with her, he'd also logged a good 90 minutes on his bike earlier. No wonder he's hungry, Elsie thought. Knowing that he had to come back to her place for his bike, Elsie mentioned she had leftover turkey and salad from last night's party that they could eat. Charles stopped walking to look her in the eye. "Elsie, I don't want to sound ungrateful because it was terribly kind of you, but I'm going to play the sympathy card again. I've eaten nothing but poultry since last Wednesday evening and I desperately want something other than chicken, turkey, duck or other fowl. Do you have a fish & chips place near you where we can get take away?"

They started walking again. "As a matter of fact, there's a little place called Cromwell's a couple blocks away, neighbourhood place. Good stuff. We can stop in there and bring it home."

"I'd be most grateful, Elsie."

"Then we shall."

So as not to delay luncheon any longer, they did stop in to Cromwell's on the way home and placed two orders for fish & chips. Whilst Charles waited for them to be prepared, Elsie and Igor walked on ahead. She was anxious to use the loo and would set the table. Charles arrived just a few minutes later and handed her the bag of food. She had already poured a glass of water for him that he declined for now, citing his own need to use the loo. She started to point him to the powder room and then remembered something John Bates had told her when she had come home last night: that the loo kept running after you flushed it. He'd jury-rigged a temporary fix but discouraged using it until she could get a plumber in. And so she pointed Charles upstairs to the far end of the hallway straight ahead and the full bath.

Charles was up the stairs and had one foot in the loo when Elsie remembered what awaited him – ten days worth of her bras and knickers hanging about up there!


	25. Chapter 25: Seeing Eye Dog

A/N: Eeek! Noticed a few minor mistakes spelling-wise in Chapter 24. Those have been corrected and the chapter reposted. On with the show! Love and appreciate the reviews!

CECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

Wednesday, 11 April 2018

On Monday, the world caught up with Charles Carson. Whether it was the Lady-induced stress of the last week, the change of the seasons, his overexerting himself the day before or most likely a combination of all the above, he woke feeling under the weather. Fortunately – or unfortunately – he still had some of Elsie's chicken and rice soup left and he ate that and slept most of the day. On the one hand, Elsie felt badly that he was feeling unwell _,_ but on the other, she was glad he had the opportunity to rest, and she let him do exactly that.

By Tuesday noon, he was feeling considerably better but she could still hear a catch in his throat when they spoke on the phone and she refused his plea to have dinner with him that evening. She told him it wasn't worth the risk for either one of them to rush his recovery. He sulked a bit at that, prompting her to call him a curmudgeon again. "Take it easy still" she insisted – one more day would make all the difference.

And so, since he had nothing else to do Tuesday afternoon, he did take it easy – putting his feet up on an Eames ottoman and plotting escalating his wooing of Elsie Hughes.

At 2:00, he texted asking her to confirm when her birthday was. She had no idea what brought this on, but replied:

 _11 Jan_

Perfect. He had remembered correctly. By 4:00, his plan was all sketched out in one of his signature Moleskin notebooks, a carryover from his years as an architect, and he texted her again:

 _The honour of your presence is requested at the South Bank Tower for dinner 6:30 pm on Wednesday, 11 April 2018. Please RSVP to your curmudgeon before 6:00 pm this evening._

From behind her office desk that was littered with piles and piles of paper she wondered, _has he done nothing this afternoon_?! As she waited for him to answer her call, she considered _he needs to find a new hobby_. Elsie didn't yet fully realize the extent to which she herself was his new hobby.

"Curmudgeon booking desk, Charlie speaking, how may I help you?"

She couldn't help but shake her head at the cheek, "It seems you're feeling ever better."

"I'm sorry madam, how may I direct your call?" Hmmm. Role playing again. Okay, she'd just have to play along.

"Hello, sir, yes, I'm calling to make a booking for tomorrow evening, please."

"What time were you thinking?"

"6:30 please, party of two."

"Just two? Nice, that should be easy to accommodate. Let me see what is available, just a moment, please." She heard papers shuffling in the background. "If a table with a view will be acceptable, we do have one then."

"Quiet corner perhaps?"

"I'll put that request in, if you'd like."

"That would be very kind of you."

"Wonderful, and what name shall I put this booking under?"

"Put it under my companion's name please."

"I'm ready for the spelling."

"C-U-R-M-U-D-G-E-O-N – with a capital C."

He almost broke character at that but instead held it together. "-E-O-N. Right then. Any special instructions I may add?"

"Just one: No poultry please."

6:25 pm

Elsie rushed herself over to the South Bank Tower – she knew Charles did not like tardiness. As she came through the revolving door, she saw him leaned against the front desk, speaking with Ti'ara. He had on his Big Ben dress shirt again, the one he'd worn to Fun Shui; he'd paired it with navy cuffed trousers.

"Charlie, what are you doing down here?"

"Waiting for you to arrive. Hello," he kissed her chastely on the lips in greeting.

"Mmmm, red carpet treatment tonight." She returned the kiss and then backed away, noticing that some of her lipstick had transferred from her lips to his. "Or red lips treatment may be the better way to put it." She reached up, and thumbed the colouring from his lower lip. He stole another quick kiss on the pad of her thumb.

He turned to Ti'ara, bidding her good evening, then back to Elsie and raising one eyebrow asked, "Ready?"

"Yes, I'm starving."

"Wonderful, I'll just put my jacket on and we'll be on our way." He stepped toward the lounge seating on the other side of the doorway.

"I don't understand, aren't we going up?"

"No, Elsie – we're going out!" She had assumed they were eating in, and so what he said was taking a moment to sink in. "Recall that other than Sunday, I've been holed up upstairs – I wish to get out. I hope that's okay with you." He was zipping up a navy suede bomber jacket.

"No arguments from me."

"Great!" Ever the gentleman, he led the way out the revolving door. When Elsie was through as well, he explained they had a 7:00 booking nearby, within walking distance; they could likely be seated earlier.

He offered her his elbow which she took, gladly, and they began their walk, westward. He was taking her to a casual Mexican place, Wahaca, part of a local chain. She'd been to a different one for drinks once before, recalling the margaritas being quite tasty. He liked this one for the proximity to home and people-watching but mainly for the architecture: the restaurant was built from eight recycled shipping containers arranged on two levels.

When they arrived at the restaurant and he spoke with the hostess about their booking, he said she would find it under the name of Curmudgeon. Remembering yesterday afternoon's banter, Elsie thought he was joking but he really had made the online booking under that name – and requested a prime table: in a quiet corner with a view. They were seated in a corner, overlooking the Waterloo Bridge.

Studying the menu, both agreed to the classic margaritas though Charles suggested Mezcal instead of tequila. No sooner had they ordered those than Charles added an extra shot of Mezcal to the order for each though Elsie quickly cancelled hers, reminding him it was "a school night." Charles just waggled his eyebrows, acknowledging it was for her, but not him. She shook her head, she was glad to see him so cheerful tonight.

Once their drinks came, they proceeded to inquire about substitution possibilities in the Mexican Feast for 2. When their waiter, Griffin, asked what they were hoping to avoid, both said "poultry" simultaneously and burst out laughing. Griffin said that wasn't a problem and a few minutes later, they were digging into the first of many tapas-size plates that allowed them to sample an array of street food selections including tostadas, empanadas, taquitos, tacos, quesadillas, cheese and two puddings.

Charles ordered a second doubly-potent margarita. Elsie hadn't been able to eat as much of the last few plates as him and the notion of puddings at this point was beyond her. Yet he ordered the churros y chocolate and salted caramel ice cream along with requesting their cheque. When he offered her a bite she was hesitant. "Charlie, you're going to prompt this lass to lose her girlish figure if you keep on plying me with puddings."

He'd just closed his mouth around another bite. She'd gotten his attention as he looked intently over at her for a moment then down at the bowl and plate in front of him. Through his facial expression, he was deliberately exaggerating his consideration of that notion. After slowly removing the spoon from his mouth and swallowing, he asked, "Does that mean you'll have to buy some larger knickers than the ones I saw in your upstairs loo on Sunday? Because I'm partial to the lacy kind, in colours!" Elsie's chin practically hit the tabletop, whilst her right hand did smack his upper arm. "Owww!"

On Sunday, Elsie had apologized for the laundry set out to dry when he returned downstairs. He had just smiled then and asked, "What laundry?" as if nothing was unusual, before changing the subject.

Now that he _had_ mentioned her unmentionables, she leaned in closer so that she could emphasize what she was about to say without drawing the attention of others, "Charles Carson I don't believe you! You act all Mr. Polite Gentleman after the most mortifying moment I could imagine on Sunday only now you bring it up out of the clear blue as if you've thought of nothing else in the days since!" She was staring daggers at him, in close proximity, though it wasn't at all uncomfortable – he was rather enjoying it.

He looked down and calmly began scraping the chocolate remains with his spoon. With a straight expression on his face, he continued. "Correction, Elsie, I didn't exactly bring it up _out of the clear blue_ – though I think blue a lovely colour."

Charles waggled his eyebrows again, and looked over at her suggestively. Now she practically had steam coming out of her ears and nose. He put the spoon down, flagged the waiter and paid the cheque before covering her hand on the table with his. "Have you calmed down? You were practically a dragon a moment ago. My Scottish Dragon!" He chuckled aloud at his wit. She was still steamed and mortified but had calmed slightly.

"I think you're drunk, Mr. Carson!"

"Elsie, relax. So I saw your knickers – it isn't like you were wearing them!"

She thought back to the sight she'd inadvertently been treated to a week ago at his flat: him. He wasn't wearing his pants then either! She hadn't yet told him about that, and couldn't foresee when she ever would. But the memory pulled her back from the edge. Charles looked down at his watch then dropped his napkin down on the table explaining, "We've got to go!"

Confused again, Elsie remained seated.

Charles put his hand out toward her. "Elsie, we've one more stop tonight, we need to get going."

The roller coaster of emotions she was on was tiring her as she stood up and asked, "Charlie, where are we possibly going at this hour?"

"You'll see, trust me."

8:45 pm

They'd continued westward, away from South Bank Tower, Charles refusing to tell her where they were headed, what he'd planned. They'd only walked a couple minutes, increasingly surrounded by tourists, when he stopped and pointed to the sky. "That, Elsie, is where we're headed." She followed his hand.

"I don't believe you!"

"Believe me! Trust me! What's so hard about that?"

"Oh, Charlie, I love you!" She didn't even realize she'd said it as her lips crashed into his. They were headed for a ride on the London Eye! "What's brought this on? Why tonight?"

They had resumed walking toward the Eye. "Well, I have this little tradition you see. It started years ago with doing one new thing – or something I hadn't done since childhood – on my birthday every year. As time passed and it became clearer to me that life is short I changed that up a little and now the policy is to do so every three months on my quarter birthday so, 19 August, 19 November, 19 February, 19 May." He looked down at her, they were holding hands again. "So, when you mentioned the other day you hadn't ever ridden the Eye it got me thinking. Then when you confirmed your birthday, I realized that today is your quarter birthday and so I thought why not institute the practice as well for you?"

"That's very well thought out of you." They'd arrived in the queue, Charles showing the ticket taker his phone screen with digital tickets.

"Mmmm, you could say I'm switching out bucket lists for fuck it lists!" He had moved his arm around her shoulder and was looking straight up now, lost in the wonder of the engineering and multi-hued LED light display above them.

"Oh Charlie, look!" He looked down again to where she was now pointing, allowing his eyes a moment to refocus in the comparative darkness of ground level. As she saw the frown forming on his face, she began to giggle.

"You're kidding, right?" She shook her head no and smiled wider and wider up at him, wrapping her arms around his midsection from her place at his side. "After refusing even a single bite of chocolate or caramel, you want _that_?"

"Yes, please."

"Now?" She nodded yes. He looked down at her in resignation then gauged their place in the queue. "I'll be right back." Letting go of her shoulder, he took one step forward before swinging his right leg high over the chain hung between the two stanchions nearest them.

"The blue kind!" He waved in acknowledgment without turning back to her as he strode toward the candy floss vendor, saying to himself, "It's the colour of the evening."

He returned to the queue a minute later, a fresh cone of blue candy floss in his hand. She let other passengers pass her until Charles was back at her side. She tore a chunk of floss off whilst the cone was still in his hand. He had a plastic bag and twist tie for when she was finished with the "disgusting mess." She laughed and offered him some, but he declined, claiming to be watching his manly figure. That just made her laugh even more and he pretended to take offense at that before he collapsed in laughter as well. He kissed her then, licking his lips a moment later before admitting it didn't taste as badly as he'd remembered.

When they were close enough to the loading zone that one of the workers came over and asked how many in their party, Charles held up two fingers and whispered under his breath if they might not be put in the same trolley as the rambunctious teenagers in front of them. The worker apologized, it was all about maximizing ridership, but it was a lighter traffic night and though loading the trolleys as evenly as possible, they were not loading them to capacity.

Soon they were in one of the trolleys with a handful of others, the doors sealing them inside. The Eye never stopped rotating, albeit very slowly, a full rotation from start to end was 30 minutes. For the ride up, Elsie and Charles sat on one of the benches looking out on the city below them. The scene inside was a near duplication of their evening at the theatre with Elsie enjoying the show and Charles enjoying watching her.

As they reached the top of the Eye, Elsie stood and walked toward one of the glass walls to get a better look; the glass had steamed up some and she was wiping the glass to see again. Charles pulled out his phone and texted the South Bank Tower, confirming his reservation for the car service to pick them up in 25 minutes from the southeast corner of the Jubilee Gardens, at Riverside Walk and Belvedere Road.

He returned his phone to his breast pocket before looking over at Elsie who was still standing near the glass. Charles stood up then and walked over to her. He hesitated for a moment before stepping right behind her and slowly wrapping his arms around her waist. She laid her hands on his forearms, letting him know she liked the closeness between them. "You haven't left my candy floss behind, have you?"

He couldn't resist himself anymore and leaned in and kissed her neck right below her ear before replying, "As a matter of fact, there's a London Eye squirrel eating his way through the bag right now just behind us. He's doing something like this to get at his sweet," and Charles was suddenly nuzzling her neck. She tilted her head to the right to give him better access. He hummed his approval.

As the Eye trolley continued its descent, Charles continued to stand with Elsie in his arms. Every so often he would release one arm to point out something to her on the skyline, returning it as quickly as possible. Their continued closeness was enough to capture the attention of the teenagers inside the trolley with them who were out on their own school night. Little did Elsie or Charles know it, but the teenagers were directing their friends' attention to them as in, " _Get a load of those two old boobies!_ "

As they exited the trolley, they were holding hands again, Elsie confirming she had enjoyed the ride greatly. They strolled to the far end of the park where Abdullah was waiting for them. Charles helped her into the vehicle telling Abdullah her address. She was surprised when he shut the door beside her and so made to roll down the window to say goodnight when she heard the other rear door open on the other side and saw Charles climbing in beside her. She looked at him and smiled sweetly at him.

"What? I want to make sure you get home safe." Abdullah drove away and a few minutes later, aided by GPS, they had stopped in front of Elsie's home. Abdullah went to unfasten his seatbelt but Charles stopped him, saying he would get Elsie's door. He came around and helped her down out of the vehicle before walking her to her front door. With her keys in her right hand, Charles grabbed her left.

"I hope you had a wonderful night, Elsie. I know I did." He paused. "I'm sorry for being so forward up in the trolley." Hopefully, he added, "We weren't able to get to Brighton last weekend as we'd discussed. When do you think we might reschedule?"

"Let's talk tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight Elsie." He leaned in and kissed her. With Abdullah steps away inside the vehicle ready to take him home, he made sure to keep it chaste.

As he broke away, she answered him, "Goodnight, Charlie."

Climbing back in the vehicle, Abdulluh caught the reflection of a smiling Charles Carson in the rear view mirror –one with blue lips.


	26. Chapter 26: House Broken

Friday, 13 April 2018

10:45 am

Charles pulled the front passenger door shut beside him and reached for the seat belt to fasten himself in. "That was nice of Dr. Parker to lend me a hand with Lady's things. Saved me another trip from the car."

"Aye, but what took you so long in there, did Beryl corner you?"

"Not at all, in fact, when I first walked in she didn't even say hello, just went straight back to the offices. Strange, I know she saw me."

"I'm sure she did." Charles didn't know what to make of Elsie's comment, or her scowl as she peered over her left shoulder and behind him watching for traffic. She turned the steering wheel and the indicator snapped back to neutral as she pulled into the street.

"Say more." When she looked confused, he added, "About Beryl."

"Oh, that." She glanced over at him, debating for a moment how much to share. They were heading to Brighton to check out the cottage roof and whatever she shared could make for a long trip there and back. She sighed, "We're in the midst of a little tiff. Started last week during the party and escalated on Sunday. We haven't communicated since."

"But she's one of your best, longest friends, right?"

"True, but sometimes those are the relationships that are most prone to tiffs. Not to worry. I hear stories of this sort all the time from my clients, and just like I tell them, it will work out. You can't stay mad for long at someone you love so much."

"Mmm-hmm. But what's behind this one, if I may ask?" He realized it was going to be a long trip to Brighton and back and a good chance for them to talk; why not get the conversation started.

"You." She looked over at him again to gauge his reaction.

"Me? Pray tell whatever for?"

"It's the most ridiculous thing, honestly. And I don't know where she got this idea anyway, but…"

"What Elsie? I'm a grown man."

"Well, that's a nicer way to put it than Beryl did." Elsie cleared her throat as she looked straight ahead. "For some reason she thinks you're – Charlie, please forgive me for what I'm about to say. Beryl thinks you're a…"

"What, Elsie? Surely she's heard by now from you that I'm what, the most-accommodating surrogate dog owner alive? A flatterer? A _curmudgeon_?"

"A pervert."

"What?!" His prominent brows were practically in a knot.

"I told you it was ridiculous and I asked you to forgive me for saying it. Now, I don't know where she got that idea, or when, but it's somewhat recent because back in February Beryl was keen on introducing us. She thought at that time we'd be a good match. Now she thinks you're a pervert."

"Well, at least she originally had her senses."

"Aye, and she'll come back to her senses once she has a chance to get to meet you outside the clinic. When she settles down some and we're back on speaking terms – which will happen soon – I want to make that happen." He didn't say anything, he was thinking of the last time he'd been at the clinic and Beryl was there, replaying that afternoon visit when he'd brought Lady in. "Charlie?"

"Hmmm?"

"I feel badly for saying that, but please know Beryl's been sticking her nose in my relationships for 30 years and she and everyone are especially over-protective of me, after…"

"Tell me."

"After the idiot I was last seriously involved in."

"I promise not to judge, Elsie, but I would like to know. I've, I've been wondering about your past."

"Ha! And now that we are together for a long car ride, what better time to ask? We'd have to drive down to Brighton and continue in a circle around the entire British coastline to cover that topic!"

"Well, I'm not asking you for every juicy nugget, but tell me _something_. I've been wondering why a woman as beautiful, well-educated, caring, generous, smart and accomplished as you hasn't been snatched up by some bloke before me."

She blushed, he was obviously being sincere in his accolades as well as his curiosity.

"Well, Mr. Carson, I don't want you to jump out of the car on account of my story, so let me break it to you slowly and just tell you about The Dick - that's what I called him after I broke up with him. Richard Carlisle is otherwise his name. He was – is – a journalist. Beryl didn't like him from the start, she didn't fall for his charm the way that I did. We went together for a long while, a couple of years."

"Then I presume you two were…"

"Intimate? I hate to admit it now, not right away mind you, but we were. It was a wonderful change for someone to regard me as attractive and at the same time be attracted to the same someone."

"Sorry to interrupt your storytelling, but I find that hard to believe, Elsie. You _are_ attractive, in fact, you know I find you beautiful. If I haven't said it enough so far, I'm sorry. I can't believe your lack of self esteem in that regard."

She sighed, "You have said it, and I thank you and count my lucky stars every time you do." She was nibbling on her lower lip now. Charles had begun to notice this habit of hers that he frankly found alluring. He also had learned by now that it was a sign she was thinking something through and so he gave her the space to continue. "The self esteem as you call it, Charlie, is well-founded."

"In your professional opinion?"

"Aye, in my professional opinion." Oh, to heck with it, might as well go all in, she thought. "I'm a breast cancer survivor, Charlie."

"Elsie, I had no idea."

"Of course you wouldn't."

"When?"

"1998."

"So you're –"

"Healed?" He nodded. "Ironic word for it. I am cancer free and have been for years, knock on wood. But it required surgery, Charlie, extensive." He looked uncomfortable – as they all did when it came to this conversation in Elsie's experience. "I had a double-mastectomy, Charlie, and the whole process was really intense and I nearly gave up. My boyfriend at the time, John, couldn't handle it. He bolted and Martha and her husband and my da – my ma died before my diagnosis –brought me back from the brink – physically and emotionally. I'm forever grateful, and it's why I put up with all the crap that Martha dishes my way. It's also, I think, part of what makes me a good therapist – I have empathy for my clients who are going through whatever their issues are."

"I'm sure it does." Courtesy response, but then he surprised her. "Elsie, is there a chance that…" he trailed off and wiped a tear from his eye and sniffled, prompting him to reach for his handkerchief.

"It could come back?" Again, he nodded. "Always a chance, but just on my left. Sorry if this is too much information but I had a subcutaneous mastectomy on that side, it's also called a nipple-sparing mastectomy. Enough breast tissue remains to warrant continued screening mammograms." He had collected himself and appeared unfazed. She was impressed.

"And your doctor was good? She did a good job, took care of you properly?"

Oh yeah, there's that from his past she realized, maybe why he was as understanding and caring as he appeared to be. " _He_ did, and he's still my doctor."

"Good, good."

"Anyway, the simple declaration of 'I have one nipple and two breast implants' is often enough to scare men away, Charlie. So at the time, it was refreshing that Richard wasn't scared off. In truth, as time wore on I realized he was frankly attracted to people's personal issues. That became clearer when he quit his respectable full-time job to focus on what had been a side hustle originally. He started and still runs a seedy online celebrity gossip site called Haxby Park as far as I know. He's a ruthless charmer who capitalizes on others' scandals. And I finally came to my senses and kicked him out of my life – after he'd proposed and I'd been wearing his engagement ring for some time." Bugger, they'd gotten in deeper than she'd anticipated this morning.

"Thank you for telling me, Elsie I'm sure it wasn't easy." He reached over, indicating he wanted her left hand. She let go of the wheel and he gently kissed the back of her hand, before guiding it back to the steering wheel. He was proving charming yet again, though in a very different way than Richard ever was. Nonetheless, that past experience with The Dick was why she was being cautious and taking it slowly now with Charles.

"It's true that's a skeleton I'm glad to get out of the closet. But enough heavy chatter for now. How about we talk about a lighter topic? Have you ever been to Brighton, Charlie?"

He chuckled, it was good to change the things up. "Once, years ago, shortly after graduate school. Oddly enough, I've just dug out an old photo from that trip in the last two weeks. I was there with Ham and Cora and our bicycles – or maybe one should say tricycle, because I really was a third wheel. They'd rented a cottage on the water for a long summer weekend and somehow ended up inviting me to join them at the last minute. I know I was an afterthought because whilst they shared the lone bedroom, I slept on the sofa, or attempted to. They'd driven down with their bikes and I decided to ride mine down from London.

While we were in Brighton, Ham and I began this brilliant athletic boasting that only 20-something lads would dream up: to compete against one another in our own private swimming and biking biathlon beginning with a half mile swim in the channel and then road racing back to Robert's parents' in Hampshire."

"My word! How far is that?"

"On the major roads it is probably just under a hundred miles, but we were on the smaller country roads for safety purposes. I think it was about 75 miles. Well, Ham was – and probably still is – the superior swimmer and I the superior cyclist and I –"

"And you smoked Ham!" She enjoyed her little joke and timing!

"How did you guess?"

"I didn't Charlie, I saw the photo on your desk the last time I was over, when you were down for your swim."

"Yes, that's the one, and yes, I did smoke him – I'll have to use that line. Very clever, Elsie, I like it."

"And you've never been back?"

"To Brighton? No, not until today. No particular reason for that, I always enjoyed holidays near the water, but I suppose I found myself going elsewhere, mainly in Yorkshire whilst my parents were alive. I like Scarborough for one, wouldn't mind going back there – it's been forever and a day."

Elsie's phone, mounted on the dash, rang then. They could both see by the screen that it was Becky. "Excuse me, Charlie, I should take this on the speaker." She hit the phone icon. "Hi sweetheart, everything okay?"

"Elsie, can we sleep over tonight?"

"May you sleep over tonight. Becky, I have you on the speaker, I'm in the car with Mr. Carson – Charlie – and he loves good grammar."

"Good morning, Becky!"

"Hi Charlie."

"Becky, I'm surprised to hear you say that you want to sleep over. It's Friday after all and I know you love to be at home for film and popcorn night." She looked over at Charles; after saying hello, he was being super quiet and listening intently due to his curiosity about Becky Hughes.

"Yes, but Mrs. Kumar is here tonight and she's bringing samosas for dinner."

"Well, those sound good. And I know Mrs. Kumar is a wonderful cook. I don't understand where the problem is."

"I want pizza with the film."

"Becky, samosas are kind of like pizza."

"No, they aren't. Pizzas are baked, samosas are fried." Elsie rolled her eyes, Becky may be simple-minded but she paid attention to the details. Charles being a details man himself actually found this enlightening and amusing. "If I sleep over at your place, we could have pizza, right?"

"Becky, Charlie and I are driving down to Brighton right now, he's helping me check the roof of the cottage. Remember when we drove down last time there seemed to likely be a problem? We're going to check on that and I'd like to take him to lunch for his trouble and I just don't even know when we'll return to London."

"But you didn't say no."

Again with the details. "You're right, I didn't say no. Becky, let me see how the day goes down there, and I'll call you back when I have a better sense of our schedule. I don't want you to have to wait until late to eat your dinner."

"But I can wait, I won't be too hungry."

Elsie looked down at the clock on the dash, "Let me guess, you all have already eaten your luncheon."

"Aye, how did you know?"

"Just a guess. Becky, I'll call you back later – no promises on the sleep over." She hung up. "And that, Mr. Carson, is my younger sister."

"Why not let her sleep over?"

"Because I really don't know when we'll be back and you don't know the small fortune I must spend on her living expenses. I like to get as much out of the investment as possible."

"It's a lot is it?"

"1/6th of a second mortgage, property taxes and insurance not to mention upkeep and the salary of the residents' caretaker. Granted, we're not making her rich, but it's skilled care so not minimum wage either. Then there's food and clothing of course, it all adds up and why we providers – the parents or siblings of the residents – take turns over the weekends at the house."

"I guess I didn't think of all that." He paused. "Tell her yes."

"What?"

"Tell Becky yes, I want to get to know her better. We can make sure we get back at a decent hour and we can watch a film and have popcorn together at your place, yes? Oh, and pick up a pizza, of course."

"You know the wait for a pizza is three times as long on a Friday night."

"What's with you and your aversion to Friday night dinners, Elsie? Can't go out, can't do take away."

"Protective of my time, Charlie, it's precious you know."

He could see her point. "Then let me make it. We'll stop by the market, pick up a simple cheese pizza and dress it up however we wish. I do that often for myself, I have a well-seasoned pizza stone at home."

"Well, it sounds wonderful and a kind offer on your part, but I don't have a pizza stone, well-seasoned or otherwise."

"Where is Becky's place relative to yours?" He wouldn't accept no for an answer. She told him Becky lived rather close, deliberately. "Then how about this: you drop me off at one of the Underground stations when we return. I'll run home and get my pizza stone whilst you pick up Becky and both of you go together to the market to get whatever you like on your pizza and then we meet back at your place."

"You really want to make this happen, don't you?"

"I do."

"But suppose you don't like what we like on our pizza?"

"Do I look like I'm particular about my pizza toppings?" His self-deprecation was rather endearing. "Come on, Elsie. Suppose a bomb goes off, suppose we're hit by a falling star?"

"Okay, okay, I'll call Becky back when we've parked. We're almost to Brighton. Thank you, I'm glad. I am touched that you want to get to know Becky."

"She's an integral part of your life, Elsie. Just as I aspire to be."

"Oh, you are already, Charlie."

On their way through downtown Brighton, they picked up sandwiches that they brought on to the cottage. It would save a little time and neither knew what all would be required of the roof assessment.

Charles was immediately taken with the old stone cottage, ivy climbing up its sides. Yes, there was probably some overgrown landscaping but the bones were there – along with a very nice stained glass window in the loo that he noticed upon arrival. Elsie had turned the water on, she always turned it off preemptively whenever she left the cottage. They ate their sandwiches right away as Elsie pointed out the signs of water damage on the window wall that faced the channel. No sooner was Charles about to investigate the roof more closely than they had to return to town. The lone ladder was old and of wood construction and his weight inadvertently broke one of the rungs.

New metal ladder in their possession, Charles first climbed into the attic to investigate. "Be careful up there," she encouraged. It did appear that there was water damage in one corner, likely some mold, he could see that with the flashlight. He climbed back down and switched their attention outdoors. He wanted to wet the roof in order to study where exactly the leak was and how badly the water was coming in. They hooked up the hose and he stood on the back patio, Igor at his feet wanting to play. He teased the dog with a couple quick redirects of the stream of water. Meanwhile, Elsie was inside, looking up local contractors and roofers on her phone.

As Charles stood there, he found the setting quite lovely, very tranquil, albeit a little cool still at this time of year with the wind coming over the water. Immediately behind the cottage itself, he noticed that the beach grass was high enough to render the back patio quite secluded. He mentioned as much when Elsie returned. She laughed and explained that was planned – Martha used to sunbathe, nude, out here all the time. Around the side of the house was also a tall hedge and enclosure. Had he noticed that by chance? Eons ago, Harold Levinson closet engineer had built an outdoor shower and solar water heater for his wife to shower outside as well.

After a few minutes dousing the roof, Charles returned inside and climbed up the ladder. He had a good sense now of where the leak was coming in. He hauled the ladder outside now and climbed up to reach the roof. Elsie stood at the base, stabilizing it yet encouraging him once again to be careful. He asked her for an old towel or rag to wipe his hands on as he pulled some of the muck out of the gutter. Wiping his hands then, he went to put the rag in his pocket but noticed it wouldn't go in all the way, then he remembered. Inside the same pocket was a small plastic, sealed bag – containing Lady's ashes. Bill Mason had given them to him this morning. He frowned and then switched the rag to his other pocket.

Coming down the ladder, he explained that he didn't think the damage was extensive. The gutter needed a good cleaning and she should get a roofer in to repair or replace a few tiles that were damaged and undoubtedly the root cause of the leak; and a plasterer for inside. "So, not a whole new roof?"

"By no means, she's got good bones, some new insulation would be good too. It's much improved these days." Charles was back on the wood planks of the patio, but pointing to a few loose nails, and a board or two that would benefit from replacement. "Another job, another quid. Martha won't like that."

"Well, I can replace those. I am a licensed architectural preservationist, after all."

"Oh, do you have any references?" she teased.

"Do I have any references, come here woman!" And he reached for her hand, pulling her to him suddenly and much to her unexpected delight, prompting a squeal from her followed by a bark from Igor. "Will you accept this reference?" And he leaned down and kissed her well and good on the lips. She tilted her head up, deepening the kiss and closed her eyes. "Ugh, too many onions, Mr. Carson!"

Their lips hadn't yet fully parted, "Ah, but I like them on my pizza too!"

"Oh, shoot! I still need to call Becky, let her know about our little pizza party."

"Before you do that, let me see what you found in the way of the local contractors." He slipped on his glasses and studied them. He didn't anticipate that he would know any and he didn't. "Send me a screen shot, please, I'll look them up when I get home, check their experience and customer reviews, get you a couple good ones to come out and bid on the project."

"You're right, this is probably more involved that I was thinking. I guess I'll have to come back down here again soon."

"You mean we."

"Hmmm?"

"I'll come back with you. I know you can handle it but I'll clean the gutters and all, and it might not hurt to have me here so I can speak with them too, hear their assessments and approaches."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course, what else do I have to do? Maybe we could come back next Friday."

"Well, that is the next time I could possibly make it down here."

"Then it's a date. Let's go inside again, I saw some stuff stored up in the attic, looked like it may have been some extra roof tiles. It would be good if that's the case."

An hour later they were on their way back to London.

6:00 pm

The dogs were in the back yard, Becky was setting the table for three and Elsie organizing the pizza toppings when Charles rang the doorbell. Igor heard it in the back yard despite the door being closed and came running to the slider, barking.

"Hi again," he kissed Elsie on the cheek before handing her the bag with the pizza stone in it and taking off his jacket.

"My word, this is heavy. Becky, you remember Mr. Carson."

"Hi Becky, please call me Charlie."

"Hi Charlie. Where's your dog?"

Elsie looked at Charles and Charles looked at Elsie. She tilted her head toward Becky in a way to suggest it was okay to tell her. "Um, Lady died. Not even a week ago. It's nice of you to ask of her though."

"I'm sorry, she was sweet."

"Thank you, yes, she was." Elsie brought a glass of wine over to Charles, a glass of lemonade to Becky.

"Charlie, I'm afraid you have a couple of hungry lasses who've been waiting for your arrival and for you to thereby make us some pizza. Tell me what to do with the oven."

"Ah yes, okay, put the cold stone in and preheat it to 450 and I'll work on the pizza. Becky, what is it that you like on yours?"

"Tomatoes, banana peppers and green olives!"

Elsie had just started the oven. "Which we have in abundance and I like mine just like Becky's but with rocket on top once it's out of the oven. We have onions for you, Charlie, and extra cheese but I didn't know what else you like on yours, so we have some other toppings too."

"I love banana peppers on pizza, not enough people do – so I'm glad you both do!" He waggled his eyebrows which prompted Becky to laugh it looked so funny to her. "I like a freshly cracked egg on mine right out of the oven, if you have any eggs, otherwise what you've said already sounds great."

"An egg?!" Becky contorted her face. "That sounds yucky!"

"Becky, I don't know as it sounds good to me either but you don't have to make that face."

"Sorry."

Charles was behind the counter now, unwrapping the pizza. "You two don't know what you're missing if you've never tried egg on your pizza. You know, with the stone the oven will take longer to preheat, we probably won't eat for an hour. Perhaps we can snack on those red peppers in the meantime?"

"And popcorn!" Becky suggested.

"No, popcorn's for later. I'm sure I have some hummus and other veg to serve."

As the oven warmed, the three were very relaxed and domestic. Elsie built a fire whilst Charles and Becky continued to chat at the kitchen counter; they were getting along fine. Becky telling Charles all about Violet and what all they had done earlier this week. Elsie and Charles in turn told about their day in Brighton. Soon Becky complained about being too warm and Elsie suggested she run upstairs to her room to change from her jumper to a lighter top. Charles didn't think the fire had made that much of a difference. When Becky was out of earshot, Elsie clarified that Becky had started to experience hot flashes in the last couple of months.

In time, they all sat down to eat, and yes, by then Becky had been so charmed by Charles that she agreed to try an egg broken on her pizza – and she liked it! Elsie still declined.

And later still, after Becky cleared the table, Charles washed dishes and Elsie made two bags of microwave popcorn, the three settled into the living room to watch COCO which Becky had chosen on demand. The Hughes sisters sat on the sofa together, their feet curled up beside them on the seat cushions, Charles was to Elsie's right in the armchair and the dogs in front of the fireplace. All three were quickly taken with the Pixar film for different reasons: Becky the music, Elsie the storyline, and Charles the animation. Midway through, Becky asked to stop the film so she could use the loo.

Whilst Becky was upstairs again, Charles sidled over onto the sofa beside Elsie, his arm on the backrest above her. "How am I doing?"

"Marvelously, she likes you, no doubt."

"Good! It's mutual, she's so much like you! And you know I like you." Charles looked from Elsie's eyes down to her lips. She followed his gaze and could feel the heat rise within her at the realization he was initiating a kiss – one she could anticipate. His lips hadn't even touched hers yet when Becky came bounding down the stairs.

"Okay! Restart the film please, Elsie! Oh. Sorry."

Charles backed away, his head hanging down as Elsie reminded him with a whisper, "You're the one who wanted her here tonight." But as Charles made to stand up, Becky's words stopped him.

"It's okay, Charlie. You can stay there. I'll move to the chair."

He sat up a little straighter then and looked as the younger Hughes sister crossed in front of the screen to the armchair. "Thank you, Becky. That's very kind of you."

"You're welcome. Elsie, the film, please."

"Yes, Becky, right away." Elsie gave a mock salute. She was all business and that amused both Charles and Elsie who sat for the remainder of the film with him leaned against the sofa's backrest, her leaned back against his chest, his arms around her middle, and her arms resting on top of his forearms.


	27. Chapter 27: Whistle

A/N: Readers, this is longer between postings than all are accustomed to with this Fic, myself included. The bad news is I was tripped up on dates of actual events, so just like the Six Nations rugby match in March, I've moved the London Marathon out a week. References below. Thanks for your patience and continued support. – D2

CECECECECECECECECECECECECE

Friday, 20 April 2018

Over the past week, Charles and Elsie had both been busy, again, though not always together, again.

On Saturday, Charles googled 'Richard Carlisle' and "Haxby Park' and immediately found a different sort of pop up ad appearing on his screen than he was accustomed to: revolting in fact.

On Sunday, they went on another long walk together, northeast to Victoria Park. And Charles fit in semi-long walks during the week, alternating those with bicycle riding days.

On Monday, Charles had studied what he could online about the Brighton area roofers and general contractors/ plasterers, interviewed a handful of each over the phone and set up appointments with two leading candidates of each type of work.

On Tuesday evening, they tried the Hot Pot place and liked it, agreeing they would go back again – not on a Friday night, of course.

On Wednesday, Sybil called Charles with a proposition that he told her he would "think about."

On Thursday, Charles went to Anna's for a haircut. Elsie of course was hosting group that evening whilst he had a landscaping committee meeting at South Bank Tower.

At no time during the week had Elsie heard from, or reached out to, Beryl.

7: 45 am

Because the first appointment in Brighton was at 9:00 am – the roofing contractor needed to get on to an existing project – Elsie picked Charles up at 6:30 to allow plenty of time for their drive. When he had explained he was going to bring a tool bag and some tools, she'd insisted on picking him up at home. They had just gotten back on the road after stopping midway for coffees and breakfast sandwiches.

After swallowing a bite, Charles brought up the topic of the forthcoming appointments for the day. He had told Elsie over dinner on Tuesday a bit about the four contractors coming over; she really appreciated all the groundwork he'd done for her and Martha.

"Elsie, I've been thinking ahead a little bit. I'm hopeful of identifying our preferred contractors today and then pending their written proposals making the final selections based on timing and cost and other factors next week. I want to closely check the window in the front bedroom though, it might need replacing."

She shuddered at that possibility. "Open up a wall?"

"Perhaps, but just around the window itself, if necessary. If you're concerned about cost, I expect that these are fairly small jobs and hopefully they might be able to be fit in sooner rather than later. But even then, there's a right sequence of things and based on what I assessed last week, I don't see how the work can all be completed in one day – especially if a new window is needed."

"I've been afraid of that. They probably don't work on Saturdays, do they?"

"For the right price I'm sure they would, but no, generally speaking, they prefer to have their weekends."

"Of course, which puts me in the bind of having to take time off during my work week to be down there."

"Not necessarily." She looked over, curious what he was leading up to. "I'd be glad to go down to Brighton, stay overnight at the cottage to supervise. That way, you could continue to work back in London. Ideally, we'd schedule it for a Thursday/Friday or Wednesday through Friday scenario with you coming down to see the results when they're finished. I could take the train down initially and then ride back with you – that is, if you like the idea."

"Charlie, that would help me out on many levels. They were silent for a few moments before Elsie added, I just don't like the thought of opening up walls and that concern goes beyond price. I thank you for the offer though, about supervising." She was nibbling that lip again. "Assuming it comes together like that, I think you should drive down, it's really difficult to function in Brighton without a vehicle. You do drive, don't you?"

"Certainly. I hadn't thought about that, but you know better than I. Sure, I'd be glad to hire a car, but then you'll drive down and we'll have two vehicles to return."

"You daft man, I'm saying you take _my_ car – Martha's car – and _I'll_ take the train."

"Oh. Well, if you'd be comfortable with that. Sure, that could work." There was another pause as he processed further. "But you can't take Igor on the train." The dog perked up from the boot upon hearing his name. "I suppose I could bring him down with me. That would help you all the more, wouldn't it?"

"A day without my mongrel? Mr. Carson, that's music to my ears! But we might be getting a bit ahead of ourselves."

"You're right. I defer to you, oh sensible one!" He took another sip of coffee and looked over at her. "Whilst we're speaking of diaries, I have another question I've been meaning to ask you. Elsie, when exactly is your charity walk? You keep saying May but you've never mentioned the date."

"The 12th. Well, to be clear it begins that evening and goes overnight."

"Is that safe?"

"Perfectly. It's just like for the marathon next week – the route is clearly marked and there are volunteers all along in addition to thousands of participants. I know I just discouraged thinking ahead too many steps but perhaps you could watch Igor for me that night too? I've started thinking what I'll do with him and that would be a huge help and worry off my mind."

"Not bringing him along on the walk?"

She glared over at him. "Not a chance!"

He chuckled, he understood. "Well, I've been planning to support you."

"A cheque will be most welcome, Charlie!"

"No, I mean of course, I'm happy to do that too, but I'd like to walk along with you. I've been intending to walk. That is, if you'll have me."

"That's very sweet of you, Charlie but I fear you're getting ahead of yourself once more."

"Why do you say that? You don't even know what I've been doing to train for this. In addition to the long walks with you, I've been walking on my own during the week. I did so twice this week and would have again today were we not heading to Brighton."

"You have, for me?" She was touched and lifted her left hand up to her mouth, overcome with emotion. He nodded and then saw her wipe her eye with the back of that same hand.

"Come now, it's not worthy of a tear."

"I think it is. It's the sweetest thing anyone's done for me in a long while. Well, aside from take me to the ballet, or up on the Eye or douse my roof, climb up in my attic." She was chuckling through her tears. He handed her his handkerchief. "Thank you Charlie, that means a lot. Truly."

He let her collect herself before changing topics. "Sybil called me Wednesday."

"Oh?"

"She extended an invitation to me."

"What, does she want you to adopt her next dog?"

"That's not fair." He paused to make sure she turned serious. "No, well, part of it is thanking me for caring for Lady and all. Recall I told you that Sybbie had a ballet recital the same day that Lady died and she was so upset she wasn't able to perform."

"Aye, you told me that. Poor thing."

"Well, there's another recital it seems, on the 19th."

"That was yesterday, how did she do? Have you heard yet?"

"No, 19th of May."

"Okay, another month out. So she has time to prepare."

"Yes, Sybbie has time to prepare and her Godfather has time to book a flight to see her perform." He cleared his throat.

She remembered that Charles was Sybbie's Godfather. "That's good of them. Charlie, that's wonderful, you should go – but don't forget to pack your Morning Suit!"

"Why do you say that?"

"The Royal Wedding, you old booby!"

"Ah, that…I prefer my little princess. Anyway, I told Sybil I would think about it but I needed to know when your walk is. It would be a moot point if it meant missing your walk."

"And now you know you won't miss the walk. So go, book that ticket!"

"But she wants me to go for a whole week!"

"Well, it's not exactly an overnight trip like Brighton. You probably want to get there at least a day ahead of time, perhaps the recital is in the evening, you wouldn't want to fly back the same night, probably _couldn't_ fly back the same night. So that's three days right there. I know cost isn't a concern."

"No, no, Sybil said they want to pay for the ticket and I'd stay with them."

"Then what's the problem? My goodness with all you've done for them you deserve a holiday and the way you love that little girl…"

He shifted in his seat, turning as much in her direction as the seat belt allowed. He swung his left leg over his right ankle, his right knee now wedged against the center console. "The problem is I'm falling in love with you, deeper and deeper by the day, and I don't know if I can stand being away from you for a whole week."

Elsie imperceptibly gripped the steering wheel tighter with both hands and her heart raced. She swallowed hard and thought through the right response. All the while, Charles continued to study her, he was immensely curious how she would react.

"Sounds like a good problem to have."

He smiled, broadly. "It is a really _wonderful_ problem to have."

She reached over and touched his right knee. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage right now, trying to concentrate on the road whilst you casually throw out declarations of love. May we pick up this conversation at another time, Mr. Carson?"

"As you wish, Ms. Hughes."

8:40 am

It was a beautiful, sunny and warm day in Brighton, no need for jackets or jumpers which they'd brought along in addition to the older jeans and tops they were wearing. Elsie took Igor down to the beach on his leash as Charles brought his tool bag in from the car and got the ladder set up in preparation for the first appointment in a few minutes.

The day's first three appointments were in relatively quick succession: Mr. Lang – one of the roofers – was first up at 9:00; the other roofer, Mr. Tufton, at 10:00; the first plasterer, Mr. Greene, at 11:00; and then a break, as Sarah Bunting the lone general contractor, was scheduled for 2:45 when she had otherwise wrapped up her day. Elsie was impressed that there was a female amongst the contenders and she was secretly pulling for her, as was Charles.

When Elsie came back to the cottage and took the dog off the leash inside, she did not see Charles and called out to him. "I'm in the bedroom," was his reply. He was near the window, chisel and hammer on the built-in bench beneath the window as he picked away with his fingers at some of the plaster around the window frame itself.

As she passed through the doorway, she stiffened at the sight, "I thought you were going to work on the gutters."

"No, the roofers are going to need the ladder in here for starters and I'm going to hold off on the gutters, probably until after lunch." Then gesturing to the window perimeter, he continued, "Just as I was afraid of, water's definitely gotten in here, the plaster's pretty much reduced to powder under the surface," he held out his hand for her to see. "I'm just digging in here a little deeper because I want to check out the window frame itself. I'm guessing it's wood construction and if the water's made it into the wood at all, well, penetration is not good for the structural integrity."

She went so far as to think to herself, _you're right there, Charlie, penetration isn't always a good thing._ She was pulled from her reverie by a knock at the front door that sent the dog into a tizzy as usual. "I'm going to put him in the other room, Charlie, would you kindly get the door?"

Mr. Lang was a wee bit of a man, a bit skittish in his mannerisms but nice enough. He was quick and nimble up the ladder to the attic and crawling around the rafters. Charles climbed up as well, enough to poke his head up through the door in the ceiling to see what all Lang was up to. He confirmed Charles's assessment from last week and noted the extra roof tiles. He next went outside and up onto the roof there. He removed a couple of broken tiles and could point to where there were holes in the membrane. He came back down and outlined his proposed fixes including new insulation in the attic, estimated the overall cost and explained why he should be selected for the job. Small jobs like this were his specialty, don't mistake his jumping between jobs as anything unprofessional. He had some issues in his past, was working through them slowly and was happy to provide a list of references – a few of the individuals that Charles had found quoted online. Charles liked him, especially when he scampered back up to the attic with a spare plastic sheet to minimize any leakage between now and whenever the repairs would happen, regardless if he got the job or not.

Next in was Tufton who was a few minutes late and the big outfit in town – big in more than one regard. He ambled about and barely got off the ladder inside the attic, a good thing as Charles was concerned whether the rafters would hold the man's girth. Similar story outside, he didn't get off the ladder proper. When Charles asked whether he himself would perform the work or one of his sons – he presumed – from the Jos. Tufton & Sons business name, Mr. Tufton said it would be him, his sons ran the big jobs. In addition to having shown up late, Tufton finished up early; he hadn't been thorough at all in Charles's estimation and they were already leaning toward Mr. Lang for the roofing job.

With the extra time available before Mr. Greene arrived, Charles asked Elsie about tools for cleaning the gutter, in particular, he was looking for a trowel and bucket. There was a trowel amongst the gardening supplies and of the two buckets she found, the smaller one was quite small and the larger one had a broken handle. Charles asked her to start making a list of supplies from the building supply store and add a bucket as the first item. They then went out on the patio with Charles hammering on some boards. In a handful of cases, he pounded loose nails back into place, in others, he started counting boards that in his estimation needed replacing. When he suggested a new patio constructed of engineered wood would be a wise investment, Elsie reminded him that day had passed for the Levinson cottage, in fact, she was bending Martha's ear about reselling it.

At 11:00 Mr. Greene showed up. Charles hadn't done much more work around the bedroom window, he wanted to see if either Greene or Bunting identified the same concern he did. Greene did express concern about the window frame but talked like he wouldn't do a thing about that, he was just a plasterer, they'd need a contractor for replacement work. When he estimated his price, Charles thought it way too high. And neither of them liked the guy, there was just something slimy about him; Elsie went so far as to say she'd rather not see the man in her house ever again.

After Greene left, Charles asked Elsie to help him take a few measurements, of boards on the patio and three windows – the one in the bedroom and the two in the parlor facing the channel. If there was nothing wrong with the other two, Elsie just thought he was wasting his breath and potentially Martha's money with the suggestion of replacing the other two windows as well. But she followed through with holding the tape measure after Charles asked her to humour him.

They then went back downtown to the building supply store. Charles went first to pick up a bucket, paint brush, a box of galvanized nails, and wood stain, then to the lumber aisle where he selected 12, 2x6 boards, impressing Elsie with how he eyeballed each lengthwise to check for warping; she was with the pro. He inquired about renting a circular saw and was handed a business card with a website address where he could find the pricing and make a booking if he chose.

Finally, before they left, he left Elsie guarding their cart to go look at windows. When he returned, he had a few photos as well as dimensions and prices noted. When she inquired on the price of the windows, she just about gasped before he had a chance to clarify, "That's the retail price, I'll get a trade discount on those and this stuff too, which is why I'll pay for this today." He had pulled a card out of his wallet identifying himself as a licensed architect. When they went through the checkout, she was impressed with how much it saved.

He noticed, however, she'd been a bit on edge, ever since he talked about opening up the walls. As an architect, walls were no big deal to Charles but to others with less experience in building, perhaps they were. No sooner had he finished his sandwich they'd picked up in town – no onions today – than Charles was pecking her on the temple and pulling out his shirttails whilst walking to the door to head outside and climb the ladder.

Cleaning the gutters was a messy job. In part because of the mess, in part because of the warm weather, Charles had rolled up his sleeves and pushed the cuffs above his elbows. He worked on the gutter facing the patio and channel for a little over an hour cleaning out buckets full of dead leaves, branches and other muck. He kept working even with the little bucket whilst Elsie played the gopher, emptying the muck in a composting pit on the far side of the house and Igor, on his leash, was sunning himself on the patio.

Elsie also took a break at one point when Martha called. She knew they were at the cottage with appointments today and she was anxious to hear how it was going – and what the financial damages might be. She also hoped to finally meet Charles, and had asked Elsie if they might swing by on their way back into town, "for a professional introduction."

Elsie hadn't yet mentioned that possibility to Charles and when he came down the ladder at 2:15, errant curl hanging over his forehead again, she giggled and told him it made him look a bit like Superman.

He was finished with the first gutter and prepared to head to the one on the roadside, Elsie was sure that was not going to happen today – his clothes were filthy and he was not going to be presentable even for the next appointment she feared. She encouraged him to quit for the day to clean up as best he could. He clarified that clean up wouldn't be as bad as she was anticipating, he'd brought along another clean shirt and jeans in his tool bag.

"Alright then, at least sit and relax. You've been working awfully hard up there. I'll bring you a glass of lemonade."

Charles rinsed the buckets outside, turned them upside down to dry on the patio and then came inside to change in the roadside second bedroom, closing the door behind him. Next he stepped into the loo and washed his hands thoroughly. Normally, he would have tried to tame that famous curl of his, but if Elsie thought he looked like Superman, well, he'd just leave it be.

She had a glass of lemonade waiting for him when he returned, all buttoned up again save for that curl. She noticed he hadn't done a thing with it and shook her head. He was being intentionally vain she noted; so unlike him, and yet a bit reminiscent of dear old Richard.

"I'm going outside again, will you join me?" he asked as he took the glass and a first gulp. "Mmmm, that's good!" His dirty clothes were rolled up in his other hand.

"No, I want to attack these dirty clothes, otherwise I fear there are some stains that won't come out. If there's still time before 2:45, I'll come out and join you then." He frowned, disappointed. "Go! Maybe we can get a walk on the beach in later, before we leave."

Charles handed her his clothes and Elsie went to the kitchen sink to soak them. Charles rummaged deeper in the tool box and pulled out his Moleskin notebook and pen. He then tucked his phone into the same hand and grabbed one of the lounge chairs that was right inside the patio door. In time, she did attack those clothes, more than even she realized. It did her some good.

When Elsie stepped onto the patio at 2:40 to check on him, she was surprised he was not facing the water, but instead bent over the notebook, deep in thought. "Charlie?" Despite the squeaky hinges on the door, she startled him. "It's almost 2:45, what are you doing out here? Working away? After I suggested you relax, no less?"

"Sketching. Here, look." She walked over. There on the gridded pages were two very detailed sketches of the cottage façade.

"Charlie! You can draw."

"Sorry that's news to you, been doing it all my life. See here, this is my concern with replacing just the one window in the bedroom. They don't make the existing style standard any more. You could get it custom, but that'd cost an arm and a leg – more than the cost of three standard windows, I'm sure. It just doesn't look right to have that one over there be the odd ball. I'd replace the other two in the parlor as well. I'd have the one on the far left match the bedroom one, for symmetry reasons, and the other one well, it doesn't need to match the other two – though it could – it's just that these windows have taken a beating over the years with the sand and wind and all and they make windows that much better than they used to. He was making sense, but still it bothered her nonetheless.

"Hello?" There was a female voice calling from the front door.

"That must be Ms. Bunting." Both got up and went inside to greet her, Elsie glad for the distraction.

Ms. Bunting was immediately impressive, addressing any gender bias right out of the block without prompting. She knew what she was up against in this male-dominated world, as a petite female no less, and she knew she was qualified to compete against the best – she'd been trained by the best, her father – and now was head of her own crew of four, including another female. Like Mr. Lang this morning, she had a list of references and a portfolio of her team's work along with a CV of the vocational and management programs each had completed, including her. It was clear her team could handle both the plastering and window replacement – she too recommended all three, anticipating the harsh conditions had taken their toll over the years – but acknowledged they were the customer and had the final say in the matter. When Charles asked about timing and duration of the work, it was with the belief that Bunting & Co. was the clear front-runner. She said two weeks out would be fine, and two days time, worst-case scenario even for all three windows.

As they said goodbye and Elsie mentioned a walk on the beach again, she wanted to clear her head some before being holed up for the ride back. Charles reminded her that they still needed to get the boards out of the car and into the house. She said those could wait, and so they headed out back with the dog on the leash and walked slowly, leisurely – unlike their power walks in the city in that regard, but still hand-in-hand – up perhaps a half mile, the wind whistling in their ears. It was a little brisk and Elsie asked that they turn around, and so they did. As they came back past some of the other part-time residents' cottages like Martha's, Charles pointed out their architectural highlights or problems– he was trying to warm her up to the notion of replacing the three windows. She was debating all along whether to tell him her real concern about opening up the walls. It would be unfathomable to him, but all too real for her. "Listen, I'm not the one you have to convince – that is Martha. She called earlier you know, anxious to hear about our day and all her money that we're planning to spend. I agreed we would swing by on our way back home so you can meet her and tell her this news yourself."

He stopped in his tracks. Opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again.

"What were you about to say, Charlie? Out with it." They were just two cottages away from home now.

"Mr. Curmudgeon meets Mrs. Cantankerous to talk cottages?" She laughed and stepped right in front of him, the wind was now at her back and her hair was blowing around her face. She pulled the right side back behind her ear and with her left hand reached up to his hairline that was similarly mussed up at this point – except for the infamous curl that defied the westerly wind. "It was bound to happen at some point, are you up for it today? It needn't be long, in fact, better that we have the excuse of a long day to make it a short visit."

"Sure, first Becky, now Martha. I'm feeling good about this."

"I am too. Charlie there's something else – " He leaned in to kiss her full on the lips, even slipping his tongue into the picture – another first for them! Charles was so fixated on wrapping his arms around Elsie that when he did so, the leash that was around a couple of fingers on his right hand became an afterthought. With Igor against his leg Charles knew he was nearby, albeit nose up into the wind.

And then the dog barked and took off down the beach, fortunately toward home, but Charles didn't have enough grip or mind in the leash to stop him. What it did stop was their kissing, immediately, as both yelled after Igor who paid no attention. Charles instinctively put the thumb and index finger from his right hand into his mouth and whistled – loudly – prompting Elsie to cover her ears from the shrill noise. But because the wind carried it the other way, or because he was preoccupied with other business, Igor paid it no heed. So Charles took off running in the dog's direction, Elsie trailing him, "Damn dog!"

Only when Charles got closer to the beach grass the dog had disappeared into, he heard Igor yelp and suddenly come running out accompanied by a horrific smell – he'd gotten skunked!

"Damn it!"

"What happened?" Elsie had just caught up as Charles was trying to grab the dog's leash without touching him. "Oh, don't tell me! Damn you, Igor!"

Charles had the leash again, "Stay back, Elsie, you don't want to get it on you."

"You're absolutely right about that! Crikey! Why the bloody hell did this have to happen?! Charlie, how could you let go of the leash? He's been outside all day on that thing and in the 10 seconds that you pay him no mind, he goes off and does this!" She'd already been on edge and was furious about the new development. Turning her back to Charles, Elsie started to cry. It seemed a moot point that she was the reason for his lapse in minding Igor.

"I'll take care of it," he'd put his free hand on her shoulder, but she jerked it away. "I'll go into town and get tomato juice and get the smell out of his coat."

"No, that doesn't work." She was wiping her eyes. "Beryl told me once. Damn it, I can't remember what she said would work."

"Call her."

"What?"

"Call the clinic and ask her, if she's not there, someone else will be."

"Bugger."

"Elsie, I'm sorry."

"Please just leave me alone for a minute." Her voice hitched. "Stay out here with him whilst I call and figure out what to do."

She was past them and on her way inside, when the door slammed behind her, Charles winced and looked down at the dog telling him, "We're both in big trouble, Igor."

"Well, well, did ye dump yer pervert yet or are ye invitin' me and Bill to take in one of his musical sets tonight?"

"Not now, Beryl. Igor just got skunked."

"Lordy!"

"I remember you told me that tomato juice is a fallacy. What does work? He stinks to high heaven!"

"Which one of 'em?" Beryl laughed heartily, but when Elsie didn't join her, she continued, serious like. "Well, don't bring him in the house for one and don't hose him down right away. Where did he get sprayed, hopefully not near the face!"

She walked to the back door and saw man and beast beyond the patio; at least he was keeping the dog away from the house. "Charlie, Beryl wants to know if Igor got sprayed in the face."

"No, shoulder and front leg it seems."

"The pervert's there with you? Did you find out what instrument he plays or is he solely a baritone?"

"He whistles, and he might sing falsetto after this mishap." Beryl wondered to herself whether her dear friend meant hitting the high notes in general or specifically during orgasm. She prayed it was only the former.

"Beryl? Are you still there or did I lose you? I don't have time for this today. Charlie says it's on Igor's shoulder and front leg."

"Sorry, good, that's better. What you want to do is mix together peroxide, baking soda and liquid dish soap." Beryl gave her the proper ratios as she went searching the cupboards. "Make sure you have rubber gloves on and massage it in good. Let it soak in for 5-6 minutes before rinsing with lukewarm water. You may have to repeat it a few times. Oh, and make sure you don't get the skunk oil on your clothes. You'll _never_ get it out. Good luck."

"Thank you. We're going to need it."

Elsie had been grabbing the ingredients as she went, as well as a measuring cup. She walked outside and repeated Beryl's instructions to Charles, glad they had the two buckets for something other than gutter muck. "Keep him out here, I'm going to run into town and get a cheap slicker or such to put on whilst I wash him down."

"No, you needn't do that, Elsie, he got sprayed on my watch, I'll do the washing."

"But you're going to get that stench all over you and your other clothes are soaking wet. It will be hours yet or a trip to the laundromat before they're dry."

"No, Elsie." And then he did something strange, he pulled the waist of his jeans away from his body, lifted his shirt slightly providing the slightest glimpse of the waistband of his pants. She could see a dark blue plaid pattern. "I, uh, I have a vest on underneath my shirt and boxer shorts on, I can strip down to those and these clothes can stay clean and dry."

"But your underthings will certainly get soaked in that stench."

"What, you want me to parade around in the altogether?" Breaking the tension she herself was feeling, Elsie thought, _it wouldn't be the first time_. "I will not compromise your integrity, Elsie. No, I'll throw my underthings in the rubbish afterward and just, for the ride home go, you know–"

"Freeballing?"

Charles frowned, "I was thinking 'commando.'"

"Geez, Mr. Carson, we aren't even gone from Brighton and you're acting like you expect me to take you to Scotland and get you in a kilt!"

"That is not going to happen, ever. But what is going to happen, now, is I'm going to wash the skunk out of this dog. I'm glad for that outdoor shower area, though I'm sure Dr. Levinson never dreamed up this use for it."

"I second that." Her arms were folded across her chest, despite the momentary jest, she still was clearly unhappy about the situation.

"There are gloves in the kitchen, I presume?"

"Yes, on the sink, I don't know how well your big hands will fit in them."

"I'm sure they'll stretch well enough. Oh, we still need to get the boards out of the car. I'll do that first."

"No, you get to work on my dog, I'll bring the boards in. I need to do something physical to get rid of the tension in my body."

"Okay, I understand, but it's going to take me far longer to wash Igor than it will take you to bring those boards in, please promise me you'll sit here on the lounger and relax afterward." She raised her chin up defiantly and made a little grunt without opening her mouth before spinning on her heel toward the front door and the car.

When she came back to the house with the first two boards in her arms, she noticed that Charles had wedged the door open with a block for her. Based on her peek through the open door of the second bedroom, Charles's jeans and shirt lying neatly over the edge of the bed, shoes and socks on the floor in front of them, he was already outside with the dog in the shower area.

She carried in the rest of the boards in five trips to and from the car before removing the wedge from the door. She had gotten a little of the steam out of her system but was still simmering pretty well. She wanted a drink but knew she'd be driving. No, check that, he could do the work of driving back and so she poured herself a scotch, neat.

She walked out the back door, quietly, careful not to let the door slam shut. She poked her head around the corner. The sight she was treated to lifted her spirits some: Charles was bent over the leashed dog, wearing nothing but dark blue printed boxer shorts, his white vest hanging loose from the pale skin of his belly, bright purple dishwashing gloves on his hands with soap suds on his lower legs. Not quite the view she'd seen at his flat but at least this was in the daylight.

Elsie went back inside and grabbed a towel from the linen closet, hanging it on the door knob. She repositioned the lounger to face the sun in the west, the foot end of the chair near the back door, then sat down, kicked off her shoes and rolled up her pant legs to soak up the sun and attempted to meditate.

Mr. Lang's call disrupted her. He thanked her for the opportunity to bid on the project and verbally told her the price and that he was emailing the official proposal with that figure to Mr. Carson. He looked forward to their reply.

Twenty or so minutes later, Charles and Igor came around the corner of the house and found Elsie lying on the lounger. The dog was wet, Charles somewhat, at least the stomach of his vest was and a patch on his bum. Charles thought she was maybe asleep, he couldn't tell with her sunglasses on. She spoke then, "There's a towel over there," and pointed to the door.

"Thank you," Charles prayed for a thaw in her demeanor.

"It's for the dog." Whilst she'd brought the towel out for Charles originally, she thought about this Plan B as she was sunning on the patio. In truth, she didn't care who used the towel, but she thought if she could hide behind her dark glasses still and get a closer look of Charles in his boxer shorts and wet vest, why not? She needed the pick me up. "I'd like to leave in the next 20 minutes. I hope you've paid attention to the route, you're driving." She held the tumbler in the air and shook it gently. "Does he still smell of skunk?"

He knew they were still in hot water by her curtness. "I've got it out, but now he just smells of wet dog." He was drying Igor this way and that, accordingly, he too was moving around some. She couldn't exactly turn around and say ' _show me your bum, or other parts_ ' so she had to take what she could get, which was a nice front ¾ view, Charles's muscular thighs and forearms glistening with moisture that was evaporating as he stood there in the sun.

"Great, can't wait to get in the car with him for an hour plus. Let him lay out here in the sun for a bit to dry off whilst you go put your clothes on. There's a rubbish bin you can drop your underthings in at the end of the neighbour's driveway."

"Okay." He went to hand her the leash and then she directed him to slip the handle of the leash under the foot of the lounger. Sucker! One nice view of his boxer-clad bottom, just a yard or so from her eyes, in the bright sunlight! This was too easy, and too good not to milk it! After that, he put his other clothes on in the outdoor shower area and tossed his pants and vest into the rubbish bag, walking that to the road. "I think we're ready to go, do you need to use the loo before I turn the water off?"

She sat up and started to put her shoes on. "Yes, I should. And if you would wash this glass please and bring the chair in, then lock this door."

"Yes, of course." As she started to walk past him, Charles added, "Elsie, I'm sorry."

Although she did stop and look up at him, she didn't say anything, just patted his chest with the hand closest to him and walked inside. It was going to be a long ride home.

And it was. They didn't talk much at all. Elsie called Martha and confirmed they would stop by _briefly_ and she would have the chance to meet the infamous Charlie. Elsie informed Charles of Mr. Lang's call and proposal details. Without even looking it over or much discussion, the two agreed that he was the right roofer for the job. So Charles agreed to call him on Monday and discuss timing.

7:00 pm

Following Elsie's verbal instructions, Charles drove to Times of Endearment and parked the vehicle. "We won't be here long, I'm tired and want to get home. So it's just enough time for Martha to meet you and hear the estimates on the cottage repairs from you."

"I understand."

"Oh, and be sure you're zipped up good, the last thing I need tonight is Martha to be treated to your freeballing status." Charles checked immediately.

The dinner services had all concluded, many of the residents spread around all corners of the building, some already be readying for bed. Martha on the other hand was holding court, leading a foursome in a game of poker. She was concentrating on her hand when Elsie called out her name. Martha turned around and seeing the salt & pepper-haired, tall drink of water beside Elsie, whistled her approval, which caused Charles to blush before Martha announced that she was folding for that round. She got up out of her chair faster than Elsie could remember, so fast, Elsie was concerned that Martha might lose her balance. But Martha was fine, steady on her feet. "Hello dear," she kissed Elsie on the cheek and then practically pushed her aside to greet Charles. "And you, handsome one, must be Charlie."

His blush deepened but answered, "Yes, ma'am, how do you do?" He had anticipated shaking her hand, but not the bear hug and kisses on both cheeks – and then on the lips – that she greeted him with! Elsie just rolled her eyes, not 20 words had been spoken between the three of them and already she could tell that Martha was in rare form.

"Okay, okay, Martha, we haven't very long. Let's go sit down at another table. We're straight back from Brighton and it's been a long day with some unexpected twists. Charlie has an update to share regarding the repair projects and I want you to hear them from him directly."

"Fine, fine." Martha gestured two tables over. Charles held a chair out for her whilst Elsie sat down, but when Martha saw where Elsie was sitting, she changed chairs, so that Charles could sit between the two of them. Finally he sat and outlined more about the calls he'd made earlier in the week, the assessments of the contractors and his recommendations on which ones to reward the jobs. He also had brought his notebook in and showed her his sketches of the cottage façade, explaining his recommendation of replacing all three of the windows and the reasons why. Elsie rolled her eyes but did pipe in mention of Charles's trade discount for the other building materials for the patio. Shocking Elsie, Martha was in favor of it all. She was totally smitten with Charles.

"Well, I guess that's all we have to take care of here today. I'll be back another day soon, maybe Sunday even. I'd like to get home now."

"Of course you would, before you leave though, Elsie would you come with me please?"

"Yes, Martha," she looked over at Charles, she had no idea what this was about.

"Excuse us for a moment, Charlie, please." Martha started to stand up and Charles scooted his chair out quickly so that he could help her. "It was a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for _all_ you're doing." She patted him on the forearm.

Elsie followed Martha about 20 feet away, toward the front reception desk. "You didn't tell me he was so cute, Elsie. Look at that head of hair, why my Howard had lost all his by his mid 50s. How old did you say Charlie is?"

"Sixty-one."

"Sixty-one, my oh my." She waved and winked at Charles who was watching from afar, clearly uncomfortable realizing they may be talking about him – and his freeballing status? But he waved back. Martha slipped her hands inside the front pockets of her jumper then. "And he's so tall and, well, _big_ – those broad shoulders, chestnut eyes –"

"Okay, okay Martha, you approve, I get it, you don't need to drone on. Is that all or was there something else?" 

"Oh, yes, there's something else. Thank you for bringing him by, Elsie. I've been wondering about him and I'm just so happy for you, for you both, there's something I want you to have, dear." Martha grabbed Elsie's right wrist in her left hand and slipped something into Elsie's palm. Elsie didn't even need to look down to realize what it was, she shook her head quickly and vigorously, "no." Elsie tried to push the tiny flat package back into Martha's hand but the older woman would have none of it and spoke sternly again. "Elsie, take it and do something good with this one for God's sake," then walked back to the poker game nonchalantly as Elsie was left there holding the condom pack.


	28. Chapter 28: Hangdog

Thanks all. For all disappointed by/ wondering about Elsie being so mean to Charlie, take comfort in knowing that the root cause will be explained next weekend. I know, I know...what's a weekend?

In the meantime, continuing in the words of Reviewer Suzie after Chapter 26: "Could there be a better BF?" Welcome deeper into Fantasyland…featuring a series _of_ short, but rapid post chapters.

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Monday, 23 April 2018

Like unwelcome snowflakes in the middle of spring, a chill had descended on the budding romance between Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes bringing all their progress to a halt. Certainly Charles thought it was rooted in the moments between when he inadvertently released Igor's leash on the beach and when the dog was sprayed by the skunk. Though Elsie hadn't acknowledged it, she recognized those were accidents. Really her tailspin had begun before then, when Charles was picking at the wall in the cottage's waterside main bedroom and accelerated in that brief, last chat with Martha.

When they parked the car for good Friday evening, she let Charles walk her to her door but sent him home right away without a kiss goodnight.

She proceeded to take a long hot soak, the proper venue to think more deeply about what she _really_ wanted and wanted to deal with. Yes, Charles seemed perfect in a lot of ways but was she really ready to pursue a truly serious relationship again – a _full_ relationship? She needed Zen in her life, no surprises, and in her experience that did not come with a man, let alone by way of having sex with that man.

Charles had texted her Saturday morning, asking about going for a walk. _Not today_ was her reply. Tomorrow? _I don't think so, Charlie…please I need some space._

Charles on the other hand had spent a lot of time in the last weeks thinking deeply. He was coming to realize what he really needed: to live again – with all the excitement and surprises that came from being in a true, committed and _full_ relationship…he thought he would want that with Elsie, was almost ready for that. Now, however, he was confused by her attitudinal change. Hormones, he wondered?

After fretting away multiple hours over where they stood after this most recent trip to Brighton, he did the one thing he thought would help him guide him out of his confusion without disturbing Elsie's space: he called Isobel. She cancelled her date with Dickie Grey Saturday evening and agreed that Charles could buy her that fish & chips dinner he'd promised her some weeks back.

Charles recapped all that had gone right, and the little that had gone wrong in the six weeks he'd been seeing Elsie. With all they'd done and how anxious he sounded about spending time with her, Isobel thought he might be inadvertently smothering Elsie.

She thought more deeply. Had they had sex yet? Charles was aghast at her audacity to ask; further, what had he just said – they'd only been together six weeks! She realized that's a 'no.' Isobel was impressed with his – their – restraint. She couldn't say as much about her with Richard, or Dickie, in their respective first six weeks together.

In the end, Isobel's advise was to tap into his right brain and figure out a clever way to apologize as only Charles Carson could and woo Elsie back in an unexpected, yet gentle, non-smothering way. Give it his best shot, and if he did, it would surely work; if not, he would know he tried his best. Let her know how she might help were Isobel's parting words.

Charles spent the better part of last Sunday working out ideas on a stack of Post-Its that he then transferred to the Moleskin. That evening, he called Isobel again, asking if he might swing by with a delivery for her to relay on to Elsie's office in the morning. When he outlined his plan for the week, Isobel told Charles she was impressed (again). His reply, "I am not a complete stranger to romance, Isobel, if that's what you're implying." On the contrary – Isobel was thrilled – thrilled to oblige and that he was going for it! EYE OF THE TIGER rifled through her head!

7:20 am

Isobel arrived to the office extra early and left a minimally, almost architecturally-wrapped package in front of Elsie's door. When a despondent Elsie arrived asking no one but herself, "What's this?" she picked up the package and was surprised it was cold. She hadn't seen Charles's handwriting yet to know it was his, but the message inside the handwritten card clued her in of its source.

 _I'm sorry our cottage visit did not end well. Please indulge me in a little "cottage humour" as I attempt to thaw the chill between us._

She unwrapped the ribbon and found a frozen cottage pie from Hampstead Hearth bakery.

Okay, she gave him credit for something beyond apology chocolates.


	29. Chapter 29: Dogwood

Tuesday, 24 April 2018

10:45 am

Elsie received a call from neighbour Anna. A delivery had just been attempted at her house but finding no one home, the courier checked at Anna and John's where Anna was able to sign for it. "What exactly did you sign for?" Elsie wasn't expecting a delivery.

"It's a sapling."

"A _what_?"

"A tree. The tag from the nursery says it's a Raging Red Flowering Dogwood. There's also a handwritten card. Would you like me to read it, or save it 'til you return home?"

Elsie nibbled on her lower lip, it had to be from Charles. She was curious and didn't wish to be distracted with the wonder during the hours ahead. "Go ahead, open it."

Anna cleared her throat,

" _There were three of us in Brighton. This represents the DOG – though the name suggests your mood – after he was skunked. One might even say he was a little stinker._

– _C.C."_

"It's beautiful Elsie, the picture shows that it will have huge, dark red flowers when it blooms. Your admirer has an eye for beautiful things." She remembered that about Charles.


	30. Chapter 30: Balls!

A/N: A super short chapter, the perfect time to pose the following question: Do you all prefer these short, rapid post chapters or the longer ones…LMK. I know, I know, long chapters posted rapidly would be the perfect combination…I would if I could but can't so I won't. This week's total of five installments was actually first written as two, to not post until Thursday and Friday, 26 and 27 April, but you've been so good about joining me on this ride, I reversed course and took this approach, and hopefully have Brighton-ed your week!

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Wednesday, 25 April 2018

1:20 pm

When Elsie returned from lunch, a parcel was hanging from the doorknob to her office.

She recognized it as one of the fabric wine bottle holders Charles had brought along when they went to Fun Shui. There was neatly folded tissue paper on the top hiding the contents, definitely not a wine bottle. The top of the tissue paper read, " _Turn over to open_." She waited until she was inside her office and at her desk to do so. No sooner had she tipped it upside down than three fresh tennis balls fell out onto her desk and floor. New toys for the dog?

Elsie looked deeper into the holder and saw a small envelope wedged in the bottom. She reached in and extracted it. Her name was written on the front. Inside, the note said:

 _Igor likes to play with me, and this is ME – after washing the little stinker. Shhh, don't_ _ever_ _tell Martha - or anyone else for that matter! - Anonymous_

Freeballing! Just like Charles himself, this gift made her laugh out loud, she had to admit it. But she was still fretting and contemplating and didn't reach out to him, there were still so many complexities to her life.

Because of that silence and despite Isobel's assurances, Charles thought his best efforts were failing. But he wasn't a complete pessimist. He had a couple more tricks up his sleeve and was determined to give it the full week, knowing how busy Elsie's Mondays through Thursdays usually were.


	31. Chapter 31: No Longer At Bay

Thursday, 26 April 2018

2:50 pm

A floral delivery person had just left a gorgeous bunch of blue thistle with Elsie's at her office. How on earth did he get this, she wondered. It doesn't even normally bloom until July. There was a tartan plaid bow around the vase, and of course, a card attached.

 _Lastly, this is YOU – the blue-eyed Scottish lass who went all prickly on me, deservedly so. I'm sorry…and miss you. - Charlie_

She missed him too, over the last days and sleepless nights she had concluded there was no doubt and he had helped her realize this with the space afforded her, and his thoughtful series of gifts. She looked at her phone and decided to call him. He answered on the second ring.

"I made a mistake," were the first words out of his mouth.

"It was accidental, and you've made up for it."

"Isobel advised me to take an unconventional approach, tap into my creativity."

"I'll have to run upstairs and thank her for that coaching. It worked."

"Thank God" he sighed as waves of emotion nearly staggered him. "That includes meals out, but I wonder about dinner."

"Not tonight, Charlie, you see, I have a cottage pie that has thawed out."

"Oh?" He cleared his throat, proud of his worthwhile efforts.

"And I plan to eat it with a nice glass of Scotch, neat. I don't have a taste for ice at the moment."

He smiled and clenched his fist in victory. "I was actually asking about tomorrow night. But since I know you don't like to eat out on Fridays…I'd like to make dinner for you."

"Charlie, you're too kind…and I'm afraid I've been too rough on you. I realize a mistake was made – I'm afraid I've made one or two myself. That said, another time – soon. I, um, I'm invited over to Beryl's. She and I have some things to talk about and you and I do as well."

"I'm glad you're back to speaking with Beryl. How about earlier though? I believe you have a dogwood tree that should be planted in your yard. I could take care of that for you tomorrow." He really was sweet, and generous.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do whilst you're covered in yard muck? Haul buckets of dirt to and fro for you?"

"No, I have a better alternative in store, so I'm told."

"Charlie, you've already done enough, truce is called."

He laughed, for the first time in forever. "That's a relief. However, the Friday installment in my apology was Isobel's suggestion. It's a must-do in her words. She pulled a few strings or made a few sacrifices herself, or something, to make it happen."

"Intriguing. I guess I must then."

"Wonderful! Now, you need to be there 2:30 at the latest. If I come over about 1:30 you can, well you can tell me where to shove it – your tree, that is! It shan't take long. May I come over then?"

"Come in the morning, about 9:00. We'll go for a long walk."

"I'd like that." His world was righting ever more. "Elsie, it's Thursday, I need to know what you want to do about the cottage repairs. I have received Mr. Lang's and Ms. Bunting's formal proposals. If I call them yet this afternoon, they both said they can do their parts beginning a week from today."

Although she couldn't help but bristle slightly at the thought of the repairs, she replied, "Let's go forward."

Let's go forward, indeed.


	32. Chapter 32: Paw Prince

And more from the adventures of our superhero, Fantastic Charlie.

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

Friday, 27 April 2018

Charles and Elsie met outside her steps at 9:00 and walked together with Igor, this time Elsie held the leash. If somehow the dog would get loose again, she wanted it to be her responsibility. They had so much to catch up about, the cottage repairs that were now scheduled for next week and the logistics associated with them and much, much more.

Charles confirmed that his earlier offer to supervise the cottage work still stood. She started to say something more but decided it wasn't the right time or place.

Charles also told Elsie that he had booked his ticket to Boston; there was a significant fare increase on overseas trips booked less than 21 days in advance. He'd purchased his ticket this past Wednesday and would leave three Wednesdays later, returning the Wednesday after that. She was glad for him. When he tried to ask about her week, or the real discussion that Elsie had alluded to their needing to talk through, she waved him off for now. She explained it was much like the reason she insisted on "no devices" during her counseling sessions – from her, or her clients – so all could be fully in the moment. He understood, didn't push for an answer, but expressed his hopefulness of having that tête-à-tête, soon.

12:05 pm

They returned to Elsie's and headed out into the back yard to discuss the placement of the new tree.

Elsie found it quite a lovely gesture and pleased it would grow to throw some nice shade in time. For now, it wasn't even as tall as her shoulders. Even better that he would dig the hole and plant it for her. It got them discussing his other gifts for the week; the cottage pie was tasty last night and the thistle was on the dining table as a new centerpiece.

"Charlie," she smiled mischievously, "Just tell me why there were _three_ tennis balls if that was supposed to be _you_."

"Ah, three balls, three reasons. The first is, a standard canister comes with three tennis balls, so that's an easy one. Second, three balls fit in the holder better than two. Third, I can juggle and it's much more impressive to juggle three balls instead of two. Nothing more to it than that."

"Oh good, I feared after mentioning my one nipple and two implants, you were somehow disclosing your own medical condition to me." He looked at her straight face, his eyes and brows expressing horror, before both burst into laughter. This felt so much better to the both of them than the last week had.

A location was picked near the fence line between her and the Bateses' and Charles dug the hole whilst Elsie scrounged up some ingredients for salads that they ate inside afterward. She thanked him for the tree, and for planting it.

"Not to be greedy, but I do recall a mysterious mention of a Friday afternoon gift in the sequence, Mr. Carson. It is Friday afternoon already, should you be clueing me in?"

Looking at his watch, Charles realized the timing was just right. "Right you are. So, here's the plan. Regrettably, I will leave you momentarily. Take a nice shower or bath or whatever you do to clean up." He reached into his wallet then and pulled out another small envelope, in the same stationery on which the other notes had been written this week . "Just make sure you are _here_ at half two. They are expecting you, and you have one 90 minute booking at 3:00. Thereafter, if you wish for anything else on the menu, they are instructed to accommodate the lady however she chooses." Afternoon tea she assumed, how marvelous, the perfect way to cap a trying week! Only when she opened the envelope and extracted the card inside, it was not from a tearoom.

"Charlie, for real?" She was dumbstruck.

"All yours."

"Charlie, this is too much – the place is too much!"

"Not for you, it isn't." He approached her, cautiously, looked from her eyes to her lips and back again. Damn it, she was worrying that blasted lip again and he so badly wanted to kiss it. But he took the gentle, non-smothering approach as Isobel had advised and simply gave her a lingering single kiss on the left temple. "Enjoy, dear Elsie. Call me later tonight, if you have the time and inclination." And then he showed himself out, leaving Elsie standing there in the middle of her back yard.

The business card was from Champney's – one of the poshest day spas in London and points beyond! A 90-minute booking sounded so indulgent, it really didn't matter what for; she would find out soon enough.

2:23 pm

Elsie was checked in by a friendly young woman at the Champney's front desk who escorted her to the women's locker room where she was shown the changing rooms, steam room, showers and most importantly, her locker. Inside the locker was a plush white dressing gown and the woman asked Elsie's shoe size before retrieving her a pair of shower shoes. The woman suggested she shower and change into the dressing gown in advance of her massage and then wait in the lounge until she was called. Charles had booked her a Champney's massage!

She undressed in a private shower and changing area, showered and put on the dressing gown before walking into the lounge. The lighting was low, calming instrumental music playing softly through the speakers, the attendant offered her herbal detox tea and fruit as well as the array of magazines available. There were two other customers, friends by the quiet conversation between them, already there when Elsie took a seat and sank into the soft lounge chair. _This_ was Zen.

She relaxed with her eyes closed for a few minutes before a female voice softly called out to her. Was it 3:00 already? Only when she opened her eyes, it was not an attendant – it was Isobel, who, like Elsie had her hair gathered up in a towel and a white dressing gown around her body.

"Isobel! Charlie told me you helped plan this but he didn't say you would be here too!"

"He just didn't ask, nor put 2+2 together! How are you?" She sounded quite sincere in her inquiry as she sat down in the chair beside Elsie's, declining any refreshments.

"Better by the day this week, better by the minute now."

"Good, I'm glad. He was beside himself last Saturday and still on Wednesday, when he came in for a treatment and dropped off whatever little morsel he had for you that day." Ah – the tennis balls, Elsie recalled. "So, have you been here before, Elsie?"

"Never! I've never had a spa massage in my life – anywhere! I couldn't splurge for myself, no one has ever splurged for me, until now! And Champney's on top of it!"

"I guarantee you're going to enjoy it! I came here for the first time about a month ago with Dickie, for a couple's massage and we'd booked another one for this afternoon but after I spoke with Charles earlier in the week, I told Dickie he was out!"

"That's funny, you call Charlie 'Charles' and I remember you calling Richard 'Richard', now it's 'Dickie' – things must be going well."

"Oh, there's still Richard, but there's also a Dickie…" she shrugged whilst Elsie processed that revelation. She was struggling with whether to have one man in her life and here Isobel was with two! "Anyway, I understand all the staff are exceptional here but Kevin was incredible last time and I booked him once again. I don't know who the other one will be, but regardless, I want Kevin to work on you."

"A man?" Elsie bristled.

"Yes, Kevin is a man. Why, is that going to be a problem?"

"I…I don't know."

"Don't worry, Elsie, they're professionals. Besides that, I'll be in the room the whole time as well, nothing untoward can or will happen. Trust me. Personally, I like a male therapist, their generally being stronger, but I'm fine with therapists of either gender. We'll see what I get today."

They were called back then, Kevin greeting Isobel professionally yet with familiarity. And both were introduced to Neville who would be working alongside him. As they went into the private sanctuary of the treatment room, Kevin asked Isobel if everything was okay last time. She assured him it most definitely was, in fact she was so pleased that she was specifically asking that he work on her friend Elsie who needed his help. Kevin was happy to oblige and they spoke about where Elsie was feeling tension, and to let him know if the pressure ever got to be too much or she was otherwise uncomfortable.

The men excused themselves encouraging Isobel and Elsie to get comfortable face down on their respective treatment tables. Isobel was in the process of hanging her dressing gown on one of the wall-mounted hooks. Elsie was slower, her hands on the belt around her waist.

"Isobel?"

"Hmmm?" A naked Isobel turned to face Elsie, perfectly comfortable in the altogether with her. Elsie thought it must be from all her familiarity with the human body through her acupuncture practice.

"Remember, this is my first massage." Isobel nodded. "And remember what you learned that night at Anna's a couple weeks back – about me, about them." She looked down at her chest. "Kevin won't see my breasts at all, will he?"

"Heaven's no, Elsie! Oh my gosh, of course you're wondering! No, no don't worry. The sheet will always be covering all but the parts he's working on and your chest will never be exposed. Ever."

"Good. Nonetheless, I'm glad to have a friend with me." Hesitantly, Elsie proceeded to unbelt her dressing gown, allowing Isobel to see the effects of her surgery of 20 years ago. Other than herself, her doctors, mammographers, and occasionally Beryl or Becky, no one had seen Elsie's chest since "The Dick" had, more than 5 years ago. The crescent shaped scars were invisible at the moment, thanks to gravity though there was no mistaking the absence of her right nipple, replaced by another distinct scar.

Isobel, couldn't help but look, briefly, before continuing on, encouragingly as she climbed onto her table, "C'mon and get under your sheet – your nip's out and proud!" She made Elsie feel more at ease and soon, Elsie was settled as comfortably as possible face down on her treatment table.

"I'm glad you're my friend," was the last thing Elsie said before either heard a gentle knock on their treatment room door.

Over the next 90 minutes, Elsie was magically transported to a previously unimagined place of comfort. Kevin's massage was everything that Isobel had promised it would be, and then some as truth be told, she couldn't help at times imagining it was not Kevin's hands or hairy forearm she felt along her back and other body segments, but Charles's. That thought made her shiver.

After, when they were back in their dressing gowns, Isobel asked Elsie if she was up for a facial, manicure and pedicure. She was conscious of the time – being due at Beryl's later – as well as the cost and said as much. Isobel waived her off, "Nonsense, Dickie already paid for the massages, let Charles pick up our other treatments." And so they did, which was a wonderful opportunity for the two to chat further. Isobel debated what to say to Elsie based on what she'd heard from Charles. Finally she spoke up, in the interest of helping them both out.

"Elsie, what I'm about to say…it's only my business by way of my considering you and Charles _both_ my friends, and what he's shared with me about you. What I want to say is I saw it that night at Richard's – you're good together and you're good for one another." She paused to gauge Elsie's reaction so far which was neutral save for Elsie nibbling on her lower lip. "Relationships in 2018 are complicated, I get it. But Charles is a really good man, I want you to know that. If there's a seed of doubt, I can tell you, it's unfounded."

"Isobel, it's less about him, and more about me."

"Well, I don't know much about you, of course, but what I do know is you're a survivor – and that alone makes you amazing! And you're beautiful, I see it and Charles sees it – he told me so."

Elsie smiled, sheepishly and blushed. "Yes, he's said it to me too, countless times already. in part I just don't want…" She was struggling to find the right words, in this public space they were in at the moment no less. And so she gestured toward her chest, "I'm afraid this might scare him away."

"Elsie, I saw that man sit endlessly by his dying wife's bedside – that," and she too gestured toward Elsie's chest, "is not going to scare him away."

"I wouldn't want to disappoint him."

"The only way you'll disappoint him is to not talk to him."

"He knows about my double mastectomy – I told him last week."

"So I understand. No, you need to talk to him about what else is going on, what else is holding you back, my friend."

Elsie snapped her head in Isobel's direction, her eyes opening wide.

"I don't know what it is, but there's more to your story Elsie Hughes. There's a reason your name is listed in the building directory the way it is, on your office door 'E. Hughes', not identifying the 'Elsie' part of you. And I've looked you up online, not much there either. Look, I'm not judging, I'm just trying to help. If you were one of your clients, what would your advice be?"

"Talk it out, work it out. Slowly is fine, but just get it out."

"There you go. And if you need a little acupuncture along the way, you know whom to call."

"Thank you Isobel."

"You're welcome Elsie."

Their treatments finished, both checked out at the front desk. "Will I see you Sunday at Beryl's?" Isobel asked.

"What?"

"The marathon…it came up the night of your party in conversation. Richard is planning to run and Beryl invited me over to watch the marathon from their place. Sounds like fun. You'll be there I trust?"

"Yes, and hopefully with Charlie."

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N post-script, again I've been writing ahead a little and tripped myself up calendar-wise. So the simplest solution was to push the date of the London marathon out a week – exactly like I did with the Six Nations Rugby game back in March. Remember, we're in Fantasyland, where ANYTHING is possible.


	33. Chapter 33: Beware of Dog

Sunday, 29 April 2018

Friday evening, Elsie texted Charles thanking him for the spa treatments. She was running late to Bill and Beryl's but promised to phone after.

At the Masons', Beryl gave her a bottled-up earful about her relationship with Charles. But Elsie could give as well as she got; yelling and tears ensued, eventually hugs and a solemn pact between best friends was reiterated. Though with serious reservations, Beryl agreed to Charles joining the crowd the Masons were hosting Sunday at their home in Woolwich between miles 4 and 5 of the marathon route – under one condition.

When Elsie returned home that night, just past 10:00, she relayed Beryl's "invitation", adding he best not regard it as a social visit. If there was to be any hope for them, he had to first make it past bulldog Beryl. If that went well, they could have their long overdue talk there. If that's what it took to steady them, so be it, Charles was up for it. He knew Beryl Mason – or at least he thought he did.

When Charles asked what he might bring along, Elsie half-joked "your groin guard." Maybe he didn't know Beryl Mason after all. Seriously, don't bring food, Elsie advised, Beryl would be insulted and there'd be plenty already.

8:15 am

Expectedly, there were many road closures this morning. During the four marathons he'd lived in the capitol city for, Charles had either just watched from his window or Embankment. Today would be his first time seeing the initial leg, racers just hitting their stride. Elsie instructed him to arrive by 8:30, everyone would eat heartily and then make their way outdoors. The wheelchair racers were due just after 9:00.

He found Elsie, a hot cuppa nestled in both hands, along with others on the front stoop waiting for him. Proving the adage absence makes the heart grow fonder, she looked fetching to him this morning. No sparkly heels, no exposed lower legs, just Elsie. He was pleased when she came down to greet him, even more when she greeted him with a kiss, albeit on the cheek. "Hello, Charlie." Baby steps.

"Elsie, you look wonderful."

"Must be my Champney's afterglow."

Huh? She had told him about Kevin, raved about him in fact. Little had he considered beforehand that it might be _a man_ rubbing scented oils all over _her_ body, but afterglow? At Champney's of all places – and Isobel in the room with her? Oh no, not the both of them…

"After our long winter, the exfoliation did wonders for my complexion, I see it myself. Thank you again, Charlie, and thank you for the compliment."

Dragging him up the stairs, he just grunted. "This handsome lad is Beryl's nephew Archie, and this gorgeous lass is my dear friend, Phyllis. Her husband Joe is running today."

Charles greeted both as Elsie continued pulling him inside the open front door. Once alone in no man's land in the front vestibule, Elsie pointed to the parcel in his left hand. "I see you brought something."

"Yes, and before I forget, I've something for you too. Best give it to you now, before I get thrown to the dogs – or dog in this case. Charles removed a most generous cheque from his wallet made out to Elsie Hughes. "It's for well, you know."

Beryl Mason had stepped out of her spacious kitchen and into the vestibule, drying her hands on a dishtowel. She heard his ambiguous line and saw Charles handing Elsie a cheque, convincing her he _is_ a pervert – and paying Elsie no less!

"Charlie, that's too much!"

"No, take it, please." He noticed Beryl now, and in particular the scowl as her eyes bore through him, "Might be the last trace of me." He nodded in Beryl's direction before addressing her, "Mrs. Mason, good morning."

"Mr. Carson."

"Oh, Mr. Carson's here!" Bill Mason came around his wife to greet him warmly, hand extended. "Mr. Carson, welcome! Good to see you."

"And you, Dr. Mason."

"Call me Bill. I was pleased when Beryl mentioned that she'd invited you. C'mon in, fix yourself a plate. There's plenty, and I'll introduce you around."

"Thank you, that's kind of you." Bill Mason dragged him further into their home and he was now directly in front of Beryl. "I brought a little something – for the _hospitality_ and all." He handed Beryl his package.

Turning it around she read _Meinl's_. "Viennese coffee…Champney's massage, face and body treatments, Mr. Carson. Or is it Mr. Fancy Pants?"

"It makes a good cuppa, Mrs. Mason – at least I like it."

"I know a few other things you like."

Bill dragged Charles away from his wife and over to the buffet, Elsie followed mouthing to Beryl, "Be nice."

Beryl just bared her teeth and snapped her jaw like she was taking a vicious bite before heading back into the kitchen.

Isobel Crawley arrived shortly after Charles and Elsie tucked in a corner together with Dr. Parker, eating quiche, sausages, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, baked French toast and fresh fruit salad, a near traditional English breakfast with few additions to feed the crowd of 15. Isobel observed Elsie cutting Charles's sausage, his hand was acting up this morning and he merely picked at his food. They had spoken yesterday and she knew he was stressed about whatever chat he was to have with Beryl. She wondered if that had happened yet.

Right at 9:00 everyone went outside grabbing cowbells, kazoos and other noisemakers from a bowl to cheer on the racers – Bill Mason even brought out a gong! Other than individuals occasionally bopping inside for refills of one sort or another, the Masons and their guests all stayed outside through the elite women runners who passed about 9:40. Charles knew the elite men weren't starting until 10:00 followed by the masses. He was just about to ask Elsie what happens next when he felt a tap on his shoulder: Beryl.

"Mr. Carson, a word." He looked at Elsie, bravely. Silent glances between them, she squeezed his right hand reassuringly and took his cuppa in the other. Isobel observed all this quietly from a few steps away.

Charles followed Beryl upstairs to Bill's study. It was a lived in room, with piles on the desk, domestic animal tchotchkes on shelves and a basket of unfolded towels that she moved from the sofa to beneath the ironing board. She shut the door behind them and pointed him to the sofa. He sat down, uncomfortably. She remained standing leaving them nearly at eye level.

"Mr. Carson, I used to like you. Even just a couple months ago I thought it would be nice for the both of you if I could somehow get you and Elsie together. Only I learned later that you _became friendly_ without my help. But something else happened. Do you know what?"

"No, I honestly do not." He stilled his right hand with his left.

She reached under her collar, adjusting her bosom slightly and extracted the notepaper she'd tucked there in anticipation of this chat.

"Third of April you came in with poor Shrimpie."

"Please, call her Lady –"

"I'll do no such thing, Mr. Carson. Because I don't think you know what a lady is, let alone how to treat one!" She nearly bit his head off!

Now Charles was growing steamed, yet still defensive.

"' _Long and hard…I thought you liked it that way…tell me what fun is…rip up yourr knickers?...That is naughty!_ ' Know what I'm talking about, Mr. Carson?"

All he could do was shake his head no.

She continued, " _'Yes it was good, in fact, I would go so far as to say very…satisfying…I have an idea of what I'd like tonight…You read about something new and you think we should try it…Ooh, is it good and hot?'_ " She looked over at him again, still completely at a loss, though what she was alluding to was clear and uncomfortable for him.

"Wait, here's my favourite, _'On the top she says! The lady knows what she likes.'_ Lady my arse. _'From Alice for sure, she liked it that way though she always told me don't take such a long time – nor a big bite!'_ "

And suddenly at the mention of 'Alice' and 'big bite' everything clicked and he instantly understood her misunderstanding and started laughing. "Oh my God, Mrs. Mason. You thought, well, you thought incorrectly! And just whom do you think I was speaking with?"

Now it was Beryl's turn to be steamed and defensive. "Well, whomever your ingénue sweetheart is whom you call Beautiful –"

"Elsie. I was talking to _Elsie_. She was telling me about a Hot Pot place she read about and suggested we try; 'good and hot'…oh my," he began chuckling all the more and shaking his head, amused by her off-the-mark imagination. "I called _Elsie_ 'Beautiful,' because in my eyes she _is_ beautiful."

"You know her knockers are full falsies?" He cringed at Beryl's choice of words but nodded.

"Yes, Elsie's told me about her mastectomy. What matters is she's healthy and well." He needed to find the right words. He stood up and started pacing, stopping beside the ironing board that he tapped his knuckle on before turning back to her and continuing. "Mrs. Mason, this is not easy for me to say. My wife and I had a real marriage, a true marriage, with everything that involves. It's going on four years since she – Alice – died and up until recently, until I met Elsie that is, I hadn't fully considered all the aspects...of being in a … relationship … that I've missed."

"' _All aspects'_ , now we're back on the scent!"

He vigorously shook his head no, though he'd imagined _all_ aspects. "I'm in love with her, Mrs. Mason, she's stolen my heart away. I would be happy and tickled and bursting with pride if she loved me too." He paused, "I thought we were heading there but we hit some massive speed bump in Brighton. I thought it was when I let go of Igor's leash accidently, but there seems to be more to it."

"'Tis."

"And you, like a very loving friend know what that is, I presume."

She nodded, a grimace on her face.

"And, do you think you could be like this iron and help us smooth things out?"

10:20 am

"Beryl, c'mon down! The pace vehicle's approachin', the men'll be here real soon!" Bill yelled from the base of the stairs.

She clarified, "We aren't done here."

"I hope not, you best leave the light on."

Charles and Beryl headed outside with the others. Isobel and Elsie who'd been chatting saw them come out. Charles walked over to them both and took Elsie's hand in his own, giving it a good squeeze and her a half smile. Isobel observed this, yet not lost on her was Elsie herself had been absent from whatever conversation had just gone on.

Over the next half hour, there was much cheering from the Mason crowd, initially as the elites sprinted by, followed by the masses. There were thousands of competitors, among them Thomas Barrow whom Elsie spotted and led an enthusiastic cheer for. Next Joe Molesley came by – he knew the Mason home well and slowed briefly for a kiss from his wife who had passed off her "Go Joe Go!" sign to Andy Parker beside her. Joe waved to all as he continued and they cheered him on with the same sentiment.

The next runner with her personal cheering section was Daisy Robinson – everyone at the house knew her, including her new boyfriend, Archie Patmore. Daisy blew kisses to them all as Bill Mason banged the gong repeatedly prompting covering of ears. The last of the runners known to anyone in the group was Richard Clarkson. When Isobel spotted him, she pushed her way down the steps to jog along beside him, pressing a tube of energy gel into his hands, the rest cheering them both.

10:55 am

Some lingered outside to cheer all in their quest for 26.2 miles, others went in to watch the elites on the telly. Beryl gestured "back upstairs" to Charles as she started inside. When Elsie didn't move, Beryl grabbed her firmly by the wrist and said, "Oh no, I'm not doin' all 'your dirty work. You're comin' with this time." Isobel overheard this and would have paid to be invited along.

Door closed, Elsie and Beryl sat on the sofa whilst Charles wheeled the desk chair over near them. Elsie was worrying her lip and wringing her hands. Charles studied her closely, his own hand trembling.

Beryl began by addressing Elsie, "Right before Bill called us down, Mr. Carson was askin' me if I knew about your 'speed bump' and if I might help you past it." Turning to him then, "Mr. Carson, I've been helpin' her pass speed bumps like you for near 30 years. But this last one? This one's a doozy." He was all ears.

"I'm going to be right here the whole time, but _you_ , not me, need to tell your beau here about Ringo The Dick." But, Elsie _had_ told him about Carlisle on their first Brighton trip. Now knowing what Beryl had misinterpreted from that one-way Clinic conversation, it explained why she thought Charles a pervert, which Charles surmised The Dick to be based on what he'd seen at the Haxby Park website.

Elsie's eyes were closed, a look of anguish on her face as she took a long, deep breath then slowly and softly began. "Charlie, over the last months I've shared many of the trials of my life, piecemeal like. It's never ever been easy and I barely have two quid to show for all my efforts. In 2010, I met the debonair dick, only I didn't realize he was a dick. I told you before, Beryl had reservations from moment one, but I wouldn't listen.

"I _didn't_ tell you that I accepted his ring, we were engaged and planning to live at his home after we married. Only, claiming he needed to transform it from "a bachelor pad" he undertook some house renovations. He moved in with me and was there for a couple of months during which he became…" She was struggling at this point; Charles wanted nothing more than to comfort her in his arms.

"He became more, _adventuresome_ shall we say." She looked over at Beryl who encouraged Elsie on. "When the renovations were done and my lease up, I moved in with him and the sex got even more wild, and he especially vocal, voicing requests and frankly adding colour commentary to _everything_ whether we were in the bed, tub or shower. A month later, he was away for business and I invited Beryl over so she could see the renovations, what he had done _for me_. Otherwise, she avoided him at all costs."

"I was proudly showing Beryl around, describing old versus new when…" Elsie burst into sobs, unable to continue. Her eyes pleaded with Beryl, her friend picked up the storytelling.

"We were in the en suite, Elsie pointing out the 'heat lamps' Ringo had installed and I said, 'That's no heat lamp, that's a hidden camera!' He had at least three of 'em installed – one above the shower, one between the tub and vanity, one of a different design in the bedroom. He was makin' to record her, Mr. Carson, record them."

Charles felt sick to his stomach, all the colour drained from his face replaced by an expression of absolute horror. He was speechless until he asked, "Did he, Elsie? That you know?"

" _That's_ my cue to leave. If you need me, I'll be down the hall." Beryl patted Elsie's knee and looked over before embracing her. "Well done, love. I'm proud of you." She stood up then, but before she left them alone she moved toward Charles, pointing her index finger in his face. "I'm not completely sold on you, so just don't be a dick." Beryl shut the door behind her.

In their respective ways, Elsie and Charles were both devastated. He walked over and stood in front of the sofa until she looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks. He glanced down at the space beside her, his way of asking if he might sit. She scooted over for him. As his bottom touched the upholstery, he leaned forward, forearms steepled between his knees and chin. He didn't look at her when he repeated his inquiry, quietly, "Did he?"

"I don't know – I don't want to know, Charlie! Beryl called Bill right away and we moved all my stuff out, then and there. I left his ring behind, taped to one of the ceiling cameras. I've had no contact with him since, thank God."

"I'd kill him if he ever reached out to you."

The fury in his voice sent her over the edge as she sobbed into his shirt collar. He wrapped her in his arms, rocking back and forth, "Oh Elsie, oh my Elsie."

Meanwhile, downstairs, Isobel's curiosity was getting the better of her. She couldn't just wander upstairs and none of them had come down yet. So she sidled up to Bill Mason when he stepped into the kitchen for another cuppa. "Bill, what's all that about?" She pointed upstairs.

Unlike his wife, Bill kept out of others' business but he understood Isobel was a good friend of Charles's and that Beryl and Elsie liked her. Bill knew the whole story being relayed upstairs – including his wife's suppositions – and was keen on things working out between Elsie and Charles. Perhaps he, she, could help that come to be. "You didn't hear this from me, mind you, but Elsie's got some pretty bad bloke baggage and that's what they're talkin' 'bout. Out with it all to Mr. Carson I expect and hopefully convincing my wife he's not a vulture like the ridiculous arse Elsie last dated. I'll leave it at that."

Isobel was grateful for that much, triggering several important thoughts. "Thank you, Bill." She paused briefly, "I know you and Beryl work together. Do you think you might be able to spare her some afternoon soon? If I would invite her over for tea, might you encourage her to attend, knowing my interest as well is seeing _things_ work out?"

"Of course, might have to push her out the door, but I'll help."

"Good, thank you very much. Please excuse me, I need to place a phone call." Little did Bill Mason know the chain reaction he had just set off.

Upstairs, Elsie had calmed but not left Charles's arms. When she finally sat up giving him the chance to hand her his handkerchief, she was determined to tie up a few loose ends. "Charlie, that's why –"

"Why mention of opening walls at the cottage to replace windows bothered you so."

She nodded, he understood. "Well, it's a good thing my bedroom really doesn't have walls."

"Or doors," she added, though neither recognized what mentioning his bedroom might otherwise imply for them.

"So, it wasn't about the cost of the repairs or new windows –"

"Not quite. It's true in the case of the cottage it's all Martha's money but well, some things about you are a little overwhelming to me to be honest. You see, I'm a pauper by comparison with your posh address, beautiful flat, worldly experiences and seemingly endless generosity." He started to interject, but was stopped. "Please, Charlie…" He silenced and continued listening. "2.5 hours of pure indulgence at Champney's, afternoons at the ballet and Twickenham, out of season thistle, that generous cheque for the MoonWalk…why, you probably have more invested in your wine cellar than I have in life savings. I can't begin to match all that, and I worry about you being so rich you won't want to be stuck with me."

"Elsie, I do want to be _stuck_ with you." He sighed, she would need more convincing. "Elsie, I'm the son of a groom. My childhood foreshadowed none of where I am today. I worked hard all through my schooling and career. I'm lucky and grateful for what I have, monetarily. Remember, a lot of it came at a huge cost – my first wife's wellbeing. I feel rich in family, friends and experiences though. I'm simply, and fortunately, at a point where I can afford to live a little.

"And those are the terms under which you now live."

"Good terms, for sure."

"I noticed you referred to Alice as your first wife. You haven't had a second, or third, in the meantime have you?" she was able to laugh a little as she wiped her nose.

"You'd be the first to know." He smiled, sheepishly.

She shuddered, it was still overwhelming. "I'm sorry for Beryl. I told you she's just looking out for me, and now you know why. I just need to chip away at my doubts."

"Mmm. I think we'll get there in the end."

CECECECECECECECECCECE

A/N: Yes, they will...thanks for all your support, readers. Like Elsie, I'm a bit overwhelmed by the chapter stats and reviews. Regardless of your chapter preference, I'm delighted you are enjoying this Fic!


	34. Chapter 34: Canaille

Thursday, 3 May 2018

Isobel Crawley left the Masons' Sunday marathon festivities in the day's fashion: sprinting. There was much to coordinate, and not much time. The reply after her initial call was simply, 'All in. Let's aim for Thursday.'

And so she next texted Charles, asking how his chats – with Beryl _and_ Elsie went. They didn't usually text, but it was her deliberate choice now, to keep words to a minimum. He replied:

 _E_ _so unsure about us, about me, but I go to her Brighton cottage W-F to supervise repairs._

Not sure about Charles still? Elsie's baggage must be really bad! Importantly, this confirmed he would not stumble into things. She texted Elsie next.

 _Enjoyed Fri. Champney's, sorry not more time w U today. Let's have tea soon. How's your schedule for Thurs?_

Thursday would be fine, of course she had group that night. _Open 3:30 – 5:30. 3:30?"_

 _Yes!_ A relieved Isobel placed her last call of the afternoon, a simple, "We are go for Thursday. Please arrive 3:00 and _don't_ be late."

On Monday, Isobel cleared her Thursday afternoon appointments. At first concerned how she might ask her office partner, Dr. Strallan, to do the same – and make himself scarce that afternoon – she played a seldom-used card: framing the reason she needed total privacy in terms he would understand, a second chance at love. Upon hearing the details, Tony was happy to help his fellow widower, "a mature, honourable man like himself."

Charles had reached Brighton safely last night, Mr. Lang and the Bunting team started at 7:00 this morning, and between his own work ripping out patio boards, Charles snapped photos of the progress and texted the first few to Elsie. He continued that practice throughout the day.

3:10 pm

As Isobel carted biscuits, sweeteners and flowers into the conference room, she heard a knock on the front door. They were here, thank God. They exchanged greetings, it had been _so_ long. Isobel inquired about their journeys earlier today; the flight was on time, the train ride had been fine, they'd had lunch together and agreed who should do what.

Isobel showed the four into the conference room, apologizing that it would be a bit tight for all of them but knew the whole thing would present some discomfort no matter.

Plugging in her iPad, Cora asked for Isobel's network name and password. Rosamund meanwhile helped her mother to a seat at the far end of the table, Isobel would be at the head. When Maggie inquired about tea, Rosamund went to fetch it for her whilst Edith, whom Isobel had not met previously, asked how she might help.

"Sybil! Oh good! I'm going to take my earbuds out now and turn you around." Cora unplugged the headset, "Can you hear me darling?"

"Yes, Mama. Hi Granny, Mrs. Crawley, Rosamund, Edith."

"Please dear, today of all days, we're on a first name basis. Call me Isobel."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sybil dear, I'm not going to disconnect for fear we might lose you. As you know, this is too important."

"I understand, Mama. Happy to hang on for Uncle Carson."

When Rosamund returned, Isobel excused herself, she needed to use the loo and didn't want to wait too close to 3:30, Elsie and Beryl were due then.

3:20 pm

When Isobel returned with the tea trolley filled with kettle, cups and saucers, Cora was counting chairs. Isobel clarified, "We're almost here, but not quite...the minx." A knock on the outer door alerted them all. "Oh, maybe that's her." Isobel poked her head out of the conference room. "Ah yes, excuse me again."

"Sorry I'm late, as you know, parking is notoriously difficult. Where do things stand?" The cast near complete with Mary Talbot's arrival.

Isobel took charge, handing out papers to each and confirming Sybil had received hers electronically. The Grantham women in the room outlined what they'd agreed to at lunch and everyone marked their copies. Now all there was to do was wait, anxiously.

3:30 pm

As Elsie escorted her last client out, Beryl was waiting with her jacket on, both presuming they'd be going out for tea with Isobel. "Beryl, I need to call Charlie about the cottage work though I expect to be brief. Go up to Isobel's and I'll meet you there in a few minutes. I don't know why she wants to meet at her office, but she does. And if I'm still not up in ten, you two swing down for me. She's directly above me, name on the door."

Beryl found Isobel's office, Isobel welcomed her and explained they were not going out after all, rather, she'd invited other friends to join them and she expected quite a discussion. "Is Elsie on her way?"

"Yeah, she's callin' Cheerful Charlie, be up in a minute." In fact, Elsie was very quick, it was a critical stretch at the cottage and Charles couldn't chat.

3:33 pm

Saying a silent prayer, Isobel led Elsie and Beryl to the conference room, both surprised, and a little disappointed truth be told, with how many others were here. All were new except the raven-haired younger woman though Elsie couldn't place her.

"What's this?"

"Ladies day," the oldest woman spoke, "Please, join us. You're going to want to take a seat."

Still wondering about the raven-haired woman, Elsie asked, "Aren't you going to introduce us, Isobel?"

But rather than Isobel, the dark-haired, fashionably dressed middle aged woman answered her. "Yes, of course, so very pleased to meet you, Elsie, Beryl, I presume?" They both nodded. "I'm so sorry we're crashing your tea. It had to be this way, you'll see. Please allow me to make introductions. You know our hostess, Isobel of course, that's Mary Talbot," Mary smiled, and I…I am Cora Grantham."

Elsie was confused. Cora Grantham? How did Isobel know her and what was she doing in London?

"This is Maggie Grantham, my mother-in-law, and Rosamund Painswick, my sister-in-law. Mama, Rosamund…Mrs. Beryl Mason, and Ms. Elsie Hughes – "

"Ah, _you_ are Elsie! Hello dear, I'm Charles's second mother. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'll be damned –" Beryl dropped the biscuit she'd helped herself to, Charles's second mother?

"Mrs. Mason, your language", Maggie tsk'ed her and Beryl fell silent, as much because of the chastising as she was not sure what was going on.

"This is my daughter Edith, she flew from Zurich this morning to be here and on the tablet is my younger daughter Sybil. She's dialed in from Boston, it was too difficult for her to get here. Say 'hi' darling."

"Hi, Ms. Hughes, Mrs. Mason, lovely to meet you both."

"What is going on here?" Elsie was trying to rectify the surrealism of the moment.

Isobel took command, "Yes, Elsie, you are understandably confused. Allow me to explain, this is more than tea we're gathered for; I'm afraid it's an intervention."

" _A what_?" Elsie and Beryl asked simultaneously. Elsie, being a therapist, had facilitated many; she was just unsure of the reason why Isobel chose to describe this unexpected gathering as such, so she probed, " _What_ _for_?"

"I'm sorry to surprise you like this. This is something that was set in motion nearly four years ago, whose time for follow through has come, rather suddenly and unexpectedly in the last few days, a result of…" and she focused exclusively on Elsie now, "your relationship with Charles. That is why we're here, because you see, someone saw this day coming, hoped for this day to come, though she is not able to be here, rest her soul."

Cora piped in, "You see, in the weeks before she died, Alice – Alice Carson – asked something of all of us, a dying wish you might say." She smiled, "We are here for Charles, and for Alice, to fulfill the collective promise we made to her."

"Does Charlie know about this?" Elsie asked warily.

Cora shook her head, corners of her mouth downturned, "No, he does not, nor does my Robert. As Mama said, this really is a Ladies' Day."

Elsie was numb. Alice Carson? Promise? Dying wish? She sat forward in her chair in a state of bewilderment as she looked around the room, taking in all these new faces, physically and virtually, inside Isobel's office. Beryl Mason was also trying to piece together what was happening, but her concern was mostly for Elsie. Cora continued, "Isobel tells us, Elsie, you have doubts about what kind of man Charles is. Beryl, we understand you share those too. We'll sort that out."

Maggie cleared her throat, "So, without further adieu," she adjusted her reading glasses and peered down at the papers in her hand. Suddenly Elsie realized they all had papers, two or three pages each.

(Read by Maggie Grantham)

 _2 August, 2014_

 _Dear friends,_

 _I have been composing this letter in my drug-laden mind for weeks, but needed your help to capture it on paper and share in the future. That time has come. My end is near, but w_ _henever it is that you are sharing this it means that like a chrysalis facing a new beginning, change has found my darling husband and he is in love again. I can't begin to tell you how truly happy that makes me. His future is the source of brightness on my short horizon._

 _I sincerely hope that all you amazing women we have considered family for so many years are able to be there as he would do_ _anything_ _for the Grantham family. Along with newer dear friends, I entrust the ladies Grantham to relay on this message to Charles's new love, and to envelop both with love and support._

(Read by Cora Grantham)

 _Dear [Elsie],_

 _Whilst I do not even know your name, I do know that you are an amazing and dear woman in your own right for my Charles to have fallen in love with you. I regret that I know nothing more about you. I hope you have a sense of humour for one of the best things about Charles is his ability to make me laugh. Unfortunately, Charles has surely told you about the twisted joke that my uterus and I most recently ran into, feeding all our subsequent plans into the shredder. No wonder just one letter separates the word 'cancer' and 'cancel.'_

Elsie couldn't believe she was hearing this right. She could do nothing more than stare straight head, her eyes filling with tears as were others'.

 _I have been married to the most extraordinary man, the gentleman of this letter, Charles Ernest Carson, for 24 years. Standing faithfully beside him, I know him to be humble – yes, sometimes clueless – and therefore unlikely to have acknowledged let alone be aware of all the things there are to love about him. In the interest of providing you a jumpstart, I share a summary from my collective experience of coexisting with him for approximately 8,808 days._

As tears fell down Elsie's cheeks, Beryl reached for her hand. She herself was not one for histrionics, but found tears forming in her eyes as well.

(Read by Isobel Crawley)

 _You already know the basics: he is six-foot-two, 18 stones, depending on how many puddings he's been putting away. Before he tells you muscle weighs more than fat, let's acknowledge it's also dependent on how many miles one bicycles. Everything about him – his frame, his gestures, his expressions – is large. I mean_ _everything_ _._

 _The following list of attributes about Charles is in no particular order because everything feels important to me in some way._

 _He is a striking "Winter" with salt-and-pepper hair, an ever-errant curl and chestnut eyes. Accordingly, he looks amazing in his cricket whites…as well as a grey or navy suit though I'm partial to him in his little black cycling Lycra. And heaven help you the day he puts on his tuxedo. Bottom line, he cleans up well, though he looks equally sexy groomed and tailored for a night at the ballet as he does with his vest hanging loose over his boxer-briefs, sporting morning stubble or the occasional beard._

 _He has the cutest cleft chin and mole over his heart. He enjoys staying fit through swimming and bicycle riding. I hope he buys you a tandem and let's you ride in back. And that he doesn't drag you to every cricket match in the Commonwealth._

(Read by Mary Talbot)

 _Charles has undoubtedly positioned our flat as my creation; not true. Charles's hand is there as well. It was meant to be a 100% accessible love nest into our old age, not a solitary confinement cell. I hope you can come to consider it yours as well._

 _Charles is detail-oriented; long legs and high heels get him_ _every_ _time. He also has high standards and is a perfectionist. Don't be surprised if Buckingham Palace extends a job offer to him to polish the royal silver._

 _Measure twice, cut once might be his epitaph. He is simply a gifted architect and sensitive preservationist who is uncannily handy and patient. He can hammer a nail as well as mince veg. On the subject of food — can he ever cook. After a long day, there is no sweeter joy than seeing him walk in the door, fresh from the market, wooing me with olives and some yummy cheese he has procured before he gets to work on our dinner. If breakfast is your thing, wait until he hulls a bowl of strawberries or soft poaches eggs – perfection._

 _Charles loves listening to live music; even as a teenager our niece, Edith, would rather go to a concert with him than anyone else. He will deny it, but he has a wonderful singing voice and can slow dance with the best of them, which is good, because he otherwise has no beat._

(Read by Sybil Branson)

 _He is always passionate, typically compassionate, but occasionally a curmudgeon. He seldom has the blues though loves the colour in all tints, tones and shades. Charles reads, writes wanton little love notes and draws. I love his sketches – the end results and the process getting there. I worry his drawing and juggling skills will suffer the same palsy fate as his father._

 _Whether you're a wine or sherry woman, prefer a strong morning cuppa or simple afternoon tea, know Charles pours generously but might spill thanks to the palsy. At least that palsy helps him make a mean martini, just like James Bond's preference – shaken not stirred!_

 _He is strong, yet tender. For such a big, masculine man he has an affinity for tiny things: demitasse spoons, fine jewels and children among them. He would have made a wonderful father, there is no doubt in my mind. He's exceptional with lads and lasses; he spoils them with magic tricks and funny voices and they in turn adore him. Ask anyone, namely Edith or Sybil or likely by now little Sybbie; he loves that lass beyond words…(Sybil chokes out the last several words.)_

 _This is a man who, because he is always up late, and I'm up early, surprises me near every Saturday morning by arranging the coins from his pocket into some sort of sculpture on the kitchen counter._

 _My guess is you know enough about him now. So let's swipe right._

(Read by Edith Gregson)

 _Stop. Did I mention how incredibly handsome he is? I'm going to miss looking at that gorgeous face of his, even the scar on his chin. He refuses to tell me its source. Look at the photos from Charles's adolescence – it's not there; Robert must know its provenance._

 _All of this makes him an easy man to fall in love with; I did it in one season thanks to Cora and Robert and their not so little abbey project. When Charles walked me from my little stone cottage in the village to the estate on day one, I thought 'Uh-oh, there is something highly likeable about this lad.' He's captured my heart ever since._

 _I trust he's also been a prince to you so far and your relationship is off to a fairy tale start, or not too far removed. Of course, regular stuff will come in, especially should you play house together. Rest assured [Elsie], he's good then too though I'm forewarning you now, do not ask him to make the bed or arrange flowers; there are reasons I owned those household chores. Also, lend him a hand ironing his shirts; it will be better for everyone._

 _Here is the kind of man Charles is: He showed up at my MRIs with flowers and braced my forehead too many times to count as I retched over the toilet these last months. He does not give his love lightly, he does not give his love easily, but when he does, it is_ _real_ _. That you are sitting there listening to this means that you should therefore consider him_ _your_ _Charles, and you need to know I am better than good with that. It brings me peace._

(Read by Rosamund Painswick)

 _I have to take one thing for granted, that I will love Charles until the last breath leaves my body._ _I want more time with him, I want more time period, but that is not going to happen. I probably only have a handful more days left in total. So why am I doing this?_

 _It's my way of sending you the most genuine, non-perishable gift I can, with the knowledge that another love story is being written._

(Read by Maggie Grantham)

 _Charles once asked me, 'what would be the point of living if we didn't let life change us?'_ _Yet Charles never liked change, so perhaps when he comes to learn what others have shared on my behalf, he is likely to feel tested and a shaking of the ground he stands on. You know what they say, being tested only makes you stronger. I hope this letter makes you both stronger, because some day my husband may want to marry you, [Elsie]._

 _On that note, I ask our friends to leave you now as a way of giving you the space you deserve – minus them and minus me. _

_With all my love to both you and Charles,_

 _Alice_

When Maggie finished, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. She broke the silence by musing, "I'm not a romantic, but even I concede that the heart does not exist solely for the purpose to pump blood."

"Elsie, I know only a little of your back story. Elsie and Beryl, it is my understanding that even after last week's romantic sequence of gifts, you have your doubts about Charles, about the two of you together. These women and I can attest how wonderful he really and truly is. All of what Alice dictated to us in those last weeks of her life came from her heart. Trust us, trust her," Isobel urged.

Cora spoke up next, "Ladies, as Alice asked, let's leave Elsie and Beryl be. Elsie, I can't begin to tell you how glad we are Charles has found you. I'm sure you'll have more questions, we might not have the answers, but we welcome helping you however we can. Call whenever you need to, and do come to visit soon." Cora slid her calling card across the table to Elsie, squeezing her hand in support as the room's occupants stood to leave. Cora blew a goodbye kiss to Sybil before disconnecting.

"Goodbye dear, lovely to meet you," Maggie squeezed Elsie's shoulder reassuringly as she passed behind her, Edith did the same. Mary and Rosamund simply filed out.

Elsie was stunned, there was no other word for it. She cleared her throat and then spoke softly, "Isobel, would you mind putting a sign on my office door as soon as possible, that Group is cancelled tonight? And, may I please have a copy of that letter?"

"Me too?" Beryl sniffled.

"Of course, I'll be outside. Take your time." Isobel shut the conference room door behind her, leaving the two best friends alone for the first time in some minutes.

It was a good minute before Elsie wiped her eyes and the two poured over the letter that Isobel left for them, Elsie choked back tears as she considered Alice's words more closely. Beryl comforted her as best she could through her own.

4:25 pm

Charles was calling her back. Elsie decided to pick up. She blew her nose and cleared her throat before answering faintly, "Charlie?"

He could tell in just her saying his name that she'd been crying, "Elsie, what's wrong? I thought you were having tea."

She bit down on her lip before choking out, "Charlie, I'm going to let you talk with Beryl."

"What's going on there? Is Elsie okay? Should I come back to London?"

"She'll be fine Charlie, just had a little shock. Don't come rushin' back – not because you aren't welcome, you're very welcome, from here forward as far as I'm concerned. In fact, did I hear you want to walk in the MoonWalk with us?"

CECECECECECCECECECECECE

A/N1: With deep, humble appreciation for Amy Krouse Rosenthal and her AMAZING letter, "You May Want to Marry My Husband." Published originally in the March 5, 2017 NEW YORK TIMES, days ahead of Amy's death, it was the beginning inspiration for this chapter, and I will admit, the source of many verbatim sentences. ALL the credit goes to her, her memory…and her Jason. Look it up, and READ IT!

A/N2: If this played out right, you all are reaching for tissue as well. And to the reader(s) so tired of Charles's hang up with Alice…well, she has her virtues.


	35. Chapter 35: Alpha, Bravo Charlie

Friday, 4 May 2018

11:34 am

Leaning against her window, Elsie kept rereading the letter that Alice Carson had written _her_ , marveling as much at Alice's foresight and thoughtfulness as her own fortune to have captured Charles's heart.

She had boarded the train for Brighton at the Blackfriars Station after spending the night at Beryl and Bill's. Pouring over the letter at Isobel's, she and Beryl marveled at the loving gesture. When Beryl asked pointedly how she was feeling, Elsie didn't hesitate in stating she wanted to go see Martha.

Holed up in Martha's room, the story of the afternoon was retold and the letter read aloud. Though Martha enveloped Elsie with hugs, she dished out tough love too, "Elsie, he's a prince. Get with the program."

By then, Beryl had a bit more compassion than that and wasn't comfortable with Elsie spending the night alone, especially after Charles did not return the text Elsie sent him at 6:30 pm. Neither knew that, worn out by the day's labour, Charles had fallen asleep an hour before and would not wake again until 11:00 when Igor nudged him to go outside.

After packing clothes at Elsie's, the two returned to the Masons where Beryl heated leftovers whilst Elsie showered. Then the two tucked into the Masons' guest room for a pseudo pyjama party. When she finally instructed the yawning Elsie at 9:30 to wash her teeth and turn out the light, Beryl noticed the condition of Elsie's nightie, "Oh for God's sake, if after today that's what you have to sleep in, you best be shopping for something new – and sexy this time." Elsie threw a pillow at Beryl as she closed the door behind her.

She hadn't fallen asleep as quickly as her yawns would have suggested but Elsie slept straight through until a little before 9:00. When she went downstairs, Bill and Beryl were long gone. A note on the counter advised of an improvised luncheon for two in the refrigerator that Elsie should transfer to the insulated picnic basket on the counter along with the baguette there. The note went on to say,

 _Go get your Charlie-boy!_

That is what she was doing now. Minutes before arriving in Brighton, Elsie's heart was pounding with anticipation, the good kind. She had advised Charles which train she would be on and he was already at the station.

When the doors opened, she queued to exit then turned left making her way to the station proper. With a fair number of other passengers blocking her view, she made it all the way through the turnstyle without spotting him. She had a perplexed look on her face as she stopped, looked left and right. Only Charles had watched her approach from his lean-to against the far wall; the way her auburn locks trailed the motion of her head and ankle-length, floral-print sundress with twin side slits and short jacket over it together were, in a word, arousing. He pushed himself upright as he called out her name, turning her head once again. And then she smiled a smile that spoke volumes as they strode toward one another. "Hello, beautiful," was all he could say before she was in his arms, lips locked against his. Oh Gods, and he thought he was aroused before!

As their lips parted, her teeth held onto his lower lip a tiny bit longer before he asked, cluelessly, "Wow, what did I do to deserve that?"

Alice's letter was squarely in mind when she replied, "You were you," before she added, "Not a dick."

Hmmm, he hummed. "Come, I've a few things to share with you at the cottage," as he held out his hand to take the basket from her. He was surprised by it's heft. "What's all this?"

"From Beryl, with love." The phrasing surprised him and it showed on his face. "I'll explain later. I have something to share with you as well."

On their drive to the cottage, Charles enthusiastically described the work completed by Mr. Lang yesterday and the work still underway today by the Bunting crew. At the cottage, he pointed to the discarded window in the back of the Bunting truck. The wood rot would be obvious to anyone; replacement of all three was wise. He led her around back so she could first see how good the windows looked from the outside, and they did! Not lost on her were two other realities: one, Charles himself had replaced the boards in the patio, having returned the rental saw at the builder's supply on his way to the station. Two, Igor wasn't jumping or barking as wildly as usual. Charles explained they'd been working since their arrival in Brighton Wednesday evening for Igor to understand Charles was the alpha male in their trio.

Lastly, Charles brought Elsie inside, introduced her to Tim Drewe who was shimming the last of the new windows as Sarah Bunting plastered. Charles had requested she not finish anywhere around the new windows – the bedroom's in particular – until Elsie had a chance to see the work herself (and that there were no hidden cameras). Given the go-ahead, Sarah expedited her work.

With it being such a lovely, sunny day with very little wind, Elsie suggested they head down to the beach for luncheon. Charles grabbed lemonades and a few other uneaten bits brought for dinner as he confessed yesterday's early nod-off to Elsie.

The food, spread over a blanket on the sand was pleasant enough, though Elsie was building toward a confession of her own. When he asked about her tea with Beryl and Isobel – and why she'd been crying – she knew it was time to come clean.

"I, uh, I received a letter," she worried her lip, "Unexpectedly, and I need to share it with you."

As she reached in her pocket, Charles had no idea what this was about.

" _Dear friends,_

 _I have been composing this letter in my drug-laden mind for weeks, but needed your help to capture it on paper and share in the future. That time has come. My end is near, but w_ _henever it is that you are sharing this it means that like a chrysalis facing a new beginning, change has found my darling husband and he is in love again. I can't begin to tell you how truly happy that makes me. His future is the source of brightness on my short horizon._

 _I sincerely hope that all you amazing women we have considered family for so many years are able to be there as he would do_ _anything_ _,"_ Elsie paused then, so that she could look at him as she said the next words, _"for the Grantham family."_

In that moment, his body shivered and eyes spelled disbelief. He hadn't seen a ghost, he was hearing from one. "What in God's name…"

Elsie reached out her hand to steady him as she continued, _"Along with newer dear friends, I entrust the ladies Grantham to relay on this message to Charles's new love, and to envelop both with love and support."_

Elsie stopped then, wiped a tear from her eye. He looked from Elsie's face to her hand and back and with his trembling right hand reached for the letter. "I think it might be better if I leave you to read this on your own." When she was standing over him, he looked up, tears in his eyes. "I'll be up at the cottage," she explained as she squeezed his shoulder and then walked away.

He recognized the various handwriting but there was no mistaking they were Alice's words. As Elsie reached the far edge of the beach grass and was about to disappear onto the patio, she turned. She could see his head was bowed and shoulders shaking. He must have read his full name; it got her every time. She left him to his privacy.

Charles had to restart from the beginning – several times. He found the whole thing hard to believe though he could hear Alice's voice jumping from the page. Eventually, he made it all the way through, completely in shock and wonder how and when this letter came to be. He tucked it into his shirt pocket for safekeeping and then buried his face in his hands, convulsing in more tears. When Elsie heard him scream, she ran toward the beach. She made it all the way to him, kneeling immediately behind and leaning in with her arms over his shoulders, squeezing out any last space between them, "Charlie, I'm so sorry, I didn't share to hurt you," she said beside his left ear. He had reached up and covered both her wrists under his big left paw, holding her tight against him, not wanting to let her go. She smelled so good, felt so warm; it was part of what he missed and needed beside him.

"I loved her, I really loved her," he eventually stated solemnly.

"And clearly, she loved you. That's a wonderful thing."

"There's just so much I don't understand…"

"I'm sure, and that itself _is_ understandable, but Cora offered that I should call anytime. Perhaps we could call, or even drive over. I know it's out of the way but –"

He was shaking his head. "No, they're not home. They were driving Maggie to a funeral in Yorkshire today. I know because I spoke with Ham yesterday. I, uh, told him about you for the first time."

"Yeah? And?" She smiled against his ear, still snuggled up behind him.

"I told him you have one nipple, two breast implants, three fresh balls –"

"Charlie!" He pulled her around his side until she was sitting in his lap, his eyes red and puffy still from his crying. She cradled his cheek in her palm, wiping away a tear with her thumb.

"No. I told him that I'm dating the most amazing lass and I can't wait to introduce her to the family. Only today I learn that the rest of the family has all met her." Shaking his head he added, "Elsie, I really have gotten better, with practice," she didn't know what he was speaking of. "Making the bed, ironing my shirts, arranging flowers, although you proved already you can do better than me with flowers. I'm sure with the other two as well."

"Aye, I'd wager on that. But speaking of shirts, what size do you wear, Mr. Carson?"


	36. Chapter 36: Paws for a Cause

Saturday, 12 May 2018

The big day of the overnight charity walk had arrived! With supporters coming over to Elsie's for pasta dinner beforehand there were preparations for Charles and Elsie to attend to beginning with dropping Igor off with Andy Parker who kindly was taking him until Sunday afternoon: a Godsend!

They drove next to the Masons, returning Beryl's picnic basket and picking up two folding tables and a dozen chairs. Of course, any stop at the Masons' included food so they were invited in for coffee and scones baked earlier.

After dropping off the furniture at Elsie's, they next drove to Martha's, taking her out for luncheon. As Charles shared photos and details of the cottage repairs, Martha nodded along courteously to his narrative; she was more interested in how they were holding hands whenever possible. As they were leaving, Martha did something nifty though not as obvious with her hand – secretly slipping a condom into Elsie's purse.

Finally, they picked up Becky, giving Charles a chance to see where she lived and meet the other residents.

After they had parked, Elsie sent Charles, Becky and Violet to pick up the six loaves of Italian bread she'd ordered from the neighbourhood bakery. It was a low-risk opportunity for them to assess how Becky was alone with Charles, important because Charles fully intended to invite Becky to the ballet season finale.

In all, it meant not much of a chance to rest up for the big walk!

3:30 pm

Elsie next had Charles hang the strings of pink LED lights in the yard, also with Becky's help. Things were continuing to go well between them so when Elsie came to check on setting up tables, Charles gave her a wink, their signal that the ballet invitation was forthcoming; Becky accepted gleefully knowing how much Elsie had enjoyed it.

As Charles and Elsie worked on furniture, Becky added other decorations leftover from last month's uniform decorating party. When Becky asked whom all was coming over, Elsie counted aloud.

"Let's see, Beryl, Bill and Daisy though they're only doing the Half Moon, Beryl maybe not even; Thomas and Simon though Simon may only do half also; Charlie's friend Isobel and your Dr. Clarkson – I think he's coming, though I'm not certain whom Isobel's bringing." Elsie looked over at Charles; he simply raised his eyebrows knowingly. "Phyllis and Joe; William and Lavinia and Ivy and Evelyn though, come to think of it, the lasses must be going home with Beryl. Then there's my former client Gwen – she's driving you home when we all leave for Clapham Common; Anna and John but again, they aren't walking; and then Dr. Kurigan and Ethel from his office – if her ex can take their son. How many is that?"

"Eighteen," Charles said, "But you forgot to mention us."

"Of course, Becky, me and Charlie."

"Charlie, are _you_ walking?"

"I am, the whole MoonWalk."

Becky's eyes grew very large. "And you're wearing a Team Elsie uniform?"

"Yes, Elsie says she has it for me upstairs."

There was a brief pause as Becky processed this, then doubled over in laughter. Becky just couldn't stop so a red-faced Elsie suggested she go inside until she could contain herself.

"What's all that about, love?" Charles had finished the chairs and pulled Elsie into his arms and a deep kiss.

As their lips parted, Elsie asked, "What did you just call me?"

He wasn't sure. Whatever had just come out naturally. "Ummm…"

"You did not call me 'Ummm.' I think you just called me 'love', Mr. Carson."

"Oh good. That sounds better than 'Ummm.'" Now it was his turn to pause, "Do you mind?"

"Not in the least, though we'll see if you still call me that later." She pecked him on the lips. Sometimes she could be so cryptic.

"Who's Dr. Kuri – whatever you said?"

"Kurigan. He's my surgeon and Ethel one of his nurses."

"Oh? Oh!" realizing her _breast_ surgeon. "He uh," Charles uncomfortably made a casual gesture toward her chest and cleared his throat.

"Mmmhmm. Near 20 years ago; and, he checks his handiwork occasionally still." Although he grimaced, Elsie assessed it as a chance to test Charles. "You aren't bothered by that, are you?"

"Bothered? No, no, I'm grateful, Elsie. He saved your life, it seems."

"Aye, Becky was so grateful she named my dog after him. Seriously!"

6:00 pm

After the party began, Charles was pleased to know so many attendees: from the Clinic, marathon watching party and elsewhere. He, Elsie, and the Bateses were all astonished to realize their connections. Charles was delighted to meet little Jack who was attending his first party of any sort – and loved by all.

Charles was particularly pleased to meet Elsie's surgeon for he was indeed grateful to the Russian. Yet the one thing that perplexed him was why _everyone_ wanted to know if _he_ was walking, and why many smirked after he affirmed he was. Distracting him in a pleasant way was the chance to share magic tricks with the Mason granddaughters and Charlie Bryant who was thrilled to meet someone so big and funny who shared his name. In time, the adults were drawn in too.

7:30 pm

All sated with Charles's homemade "damn good" red sauce – as Beryl had assessed – and the littlest ones growing tired, Elsie decided it was time to address her guests.

She began by expressing her appreciation for them all and reminded everyone of the "stumble in" open house breakfast tomorrow morning at the Bates'. She shared how much it meant to have her own healthcare team there supporting her – and a reminder to stop by the practice's tent in mile 14 for "a drink of water," generating a few chuckles and howls. Elsie shared some of the obligatory statistics about breast cancer diagnoses, survival rates, the importance of self exams and funding research. To that end, she proudly announced the £10,000+ figure that Team Elsie had collectively raised – a new record.

Charles happened to be rocking Jack Bates to sleep on his shoulder beside Anna when Elsie paused, collecting herself. She acknowledged some of that new record was attributed to having a new walker on her team, her "biggest supporter."

"In more ways than one!" Beryl clarified for the crowd with a laugh.

Charles stilled, concentrating on Elsie's words. Her grace and strength impressed him and he was proud of her. Elsie briefly told about how they had first met at the Clinic, then found themselves elsewhere around town together and, "Before I knew it, he was joining me on near weekly, hours-long walks in all sorts of weather, and walking even more without me to be ready for this evening. Charlie, don't wake that bairn by giving him back to his ma, but do come and join me, please. Charles Carson, lads and lasses!"

A few cleared his way to Elsie. As he reached her, she caressed his check and quietly thanked him for his support before standing on her tip toes to treat him to what was hands-down their most risqué and lingering kiss to date – and here in front of a crowd no less! All were happy for the couple and several were easily imagining when the scene might be recreated with Elsie walking to him.

With little Jack stirring from the crowd's cheers, Elsie broke the kiss though Charles continued to rest his forehead against hers. Elsie lifted her other hand to soothe Jack's fussing before pulling back, now with a look of pure adoration on her face. She giggled slightly as she noticed Jack had drooled on Charles's pink polo shirt he'd put on before the guests arrived and Elsie had slipped on a loose fitting pink button down.

"Now, Charlie here is a MoonWalk virgin so he doesn't know its unique trademark. The rest of you – or most of you – do. And since we need to start heading over to Clapham Common soon, it's time for Mr. Carson to be fully briefed." With that, Elsie started slowly unbuttoning her blouse, revealing an outrageously decorated bra and toned abs. "Close your mouth, Charlie, you're about to drool like Jack here." She leaned in for another kiss, "Surprise darling!" With the crowd cheering louder, only Elsie heard his satisfied growl.

She then sent him upstairs with "his haberdasher." Until then, Charles didn't know that men also wear bras for the MoonWalk, or that Beryl had decorated one for him after Elsie relayed his shirt size!


	37. Chapter 37: The Dogs Are Barking

Sunday, 13 May 2018

Before departing for Clapham Common, photos were taken of Team Elsie _all_ in their uniforms. Charles used his height to justify hiding toward the back but for the last few, a giggling Anna dragged him front and center with Elsie – and placed Jack back in his arms to help him "cover up." Charles fretted aloud, "Elsie, don't you _dare_ send these to Cora!"

At the MoonWalk start, Elsie took more photos - more than she had in their two months together, combined. The other menfolk helped him be a good sport about wearing the bra. Whilst looking at veterans Joe Molesley, Bill Mason, Thomas Barrow and Simon Bricker in their bras did not help Charles forget he too was wearing one, they were helpful in advising the cups were ideal for holding power bars and mobiles.

It was impossible not to enjoy some of the sights around central London, though Charles was most enjoying Elsie's hourglass figure and the pink wings and fabric sign pinned to her racer back declaring her 'Charlie's Angel.' He proved willing to be photographed close up beside those.

2:30 am

After five hours of walking and returning to Clapham Common, four team members who were only doing the HalfMoon said farewell before the remainder prepped for the MoonWalk's second half. Daisy continued with the skeleton crew whilst Elsie waited for Charles.

As he exited a portable WC, Elsie inquired, "Are you well, Mr. Carson?"

"I'm quite well. You're simply doing an exceptional job of keeping us hydrated and my prostate was protesting." Resuming walking, they were in no rush to catch up to the others.

"And how are you coping with your _bra_?" It might be dark, but she recognized a pronounced grimace when she saw one, especially one accompanied by a low grumble like this one. She giggled, "Oh, what's wrong, Charlie? As The MoonWalk website says, we all have our wobbly bits!"

He was red, "Yes, well, I prefer others' – yours, for example."

She spun around joyfully with her arms extended, "Will I do, Charlie?"

Truthfully, she took his breath away, "Very well, Elsie." He cleared his throat, "You certainly surprised me though, when you took your blouse off." She had known the protocol all along and so he boldly continued, "You know, I would have pledged even more if I'd known exactly what my money was going toward!"

"Mr. Carson!" she stated in a mock huff.

"Sorry, Elsie. I just continue to marvel at you. And I am so thrilled by your friends' support; they're good people. Seeing what you do for one another, including us sorry blokes," he gestured down at his chest.

"I don't know about sorry blokes – old boobies, maybe!" He moaned at that joke and hung his head though kept walking. "Say what you will Charlie, I think it looks quite becoming on you!" It really had been a treat thus far, seeing his broad torso, the hairs sprinkled on his torso caught in the moonlight. He was pleased to hear that as he jutted his chest out proudly and waggled his eyebrows then, just for her.

"Oh, there's our group! Of course; we must have made it to mile 14."

"How do you know?"

She pointed then, "The women's health practice – remember, their tent is in mile 14. Come on, let's say hello to the 'drink of water.'" She pulled him over; he recognized Dr. Kurigan and Ethel from the pre-party, though there were others behind the table including an exotic looking younger man: athletic build, chiseled cheeks and chin, dark hair and eyes; she silently made it clear the crowd was here because of _him_. As they approached, the man recognized her.

"Elsie Hughes, I wondered when we'd see you. Your team said you'd be along shortly." He kissed her on the cheek. "How's the walk so far, going to make it to the end?"

"Of course, Dr. Pamuk. I have an abundance of moral support this year!" She squeezed Charles's hand before introducing him, "Dr. Pamuk, this is my boyfriend, Charlie; Charlie, this is Dr. Pamuk."

"How do you do, Charlie," Pamuk extended his hand.

"Dr. Pamuk! Another photo, _please_!" came Ethel's voice from the other end of the table.

Dr. Pamuk's expression switched from pleased to an eye roll. "Ah, excuse me. The nurses volunteered me to pose for fundraising photos."

"Of course, we should be going anyway. Lovely to see you."

"Carry on, Team Elsie!"

"Come along now, best to keep going!" Elsie was shooing them along. "Daisy…Thomas…"

"I'm going back now. I've seen what I've come to see," Daisy announced dreamily.

"See you for breakfast?"

"A definite maybe." Daisyl was beaming, whilst Elsie rolled her eyes.

"Okay, be careful getting home." Elsie gave her a hug.

"I will."

"What's that all about?" Charles wondered.

"Daisy's got a crush on Dr. Pamuk." Looking over her shoulder, she added, "Thomas too – and half of London."

"Oh? Who is he?"

"My gynecologist!" _Oh, Gods_ Charles thought, looking back over his shoulder at the young Turk.

7:00 am

They were in the final leg now and Team Elsie had split into three parts – Lavinia and William Mason ahead, their younger legs keeping a faster pace; the Molesleys, slowed by a limping Joe, lagging behind. Thomas Barrow was more or less with Elsie and Charles. He had rushed ahead for a portable WC now, with plans to reconnect with Elsie and Charles there.

Only when Thomas exited, they were not yet in sight. He made to text them but then spotted them approaching, completely oblivious to him and seemingly others. Rather than calling out their names, Thomas snapped a few impromptu photo bursts, they were so cute together: Elsie had her arm around Charles's waist, whilst his arm was around her shoulder. Thomas knew not to post anything with Elsie on social media. Instead, he sent the bursts directly to them both. Perfect that he be the one to find this photo op, he thought; he was the only Team Elsie member with both their numbers.

7:30 am

MoonWalk 2018 Finisher medals around their necks, Thomas posed Charles and Elsie for a few more photos and this time, they kissed for the camera. Then Thomas headed home whilst Elsie and Charles took their own most-welcome taxi.

Walking in to Elsie's, Charles begged for the opportunity to shower before heading over to the Bates', he did so after she helped unhook his bra and gave him a clean towel. Elsie meanwhile went next door to greet her team members as they stumbled in.

9:42 am

Filled with crispy bacon, oodles of blueberry pancakes and lots of coffee, Elsie and Charles returned to her place and with Wiliam and Bill's help, loaded the borrowed furniture quickly into Bill's SUV. After the Masons left, Charles made to take down the light strings but Elsie suggested he wait so she could help - she now desperately wanted a shower and promised to be quick about it. Just two minutes later, though, she spotted him from her bedroom window working on the lights. Were she not already undressed, she would have opened the window and called down to him.

Returning downstairs after, she found Charles on her sofa eyes half closed with a cricket match on the Telly. He woke when she cuddled up to his side smelling of tea tree shampoo. "Who's winning, Mr. Carson?" She pressed her lips to his whiskery cheek as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"I don't know."

"Who's _playing_?"

"The ones in white."

Daft man! She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him affectionately as she recalled being warned about moments like this. "Why didn't you wait so I could help with the lights?"

Pulling her closer and kissing her temple, Charles explained, "Honestly, my feet are so sore, I feared sitting down and not getting up."

"If you turn that cricket match off, I'll massage your sore feet, Charlie."

"Really?" her perked slightly.

"After all you've done for me, sure," she teased as she squeezed his side, "Besides, I've been anxious to pay forward some of Kevin's magic."

"Kevin?" He honestly couldn't remember in his tired state.

"Champney's Kevin," she clarified. That woke him up and as he began nuzzling her neck (and tickling her with his whiskers), she postulated aloud through a giggle, "Argh, who needs Champney's Kevin when you can have Cheerful Charlie?"


	38. Chapter 38: Yellow Dog Democrats

Wednesday, 16 May 2018

8:43 am

Virgin Atlantic flight 11 was pre-boarding when Charles called Elsie to say he wished she were coming along with him to Boston, that he would miss her, and that yes, he _loved_ her! It was a touching way to start her workday. Elsie told him to have a good flight, let her know when he landed, and yes, that she loved him also.

1:05 pm EST

Charles was bursting with pride as he explained to the Logan Airport Customs agent that his 6 year-old Goddaughter's recital was the reason for his US visit. She smiled as she handed his passport back, encouraging him to enjoy Boston. A beaming Sybil, fresh off her Hospice nurse shift, met him in the greeting area. "Hello, Petal," Charles rejoiced as he engulfed her in a hug.

"Uncle Carson, we are _all so_ _glad_ you're here," an emotional Sybil wept in return. They drove straight to the Bransons' rented row house in the Shawmut neighborhood of Boston where he dropped off his luggage and texted Elsie of his arrival. Grabbing coffees down the street, Sybil explained her plan to deliver a surprise to Sybbie at school. Art was the last subject of Sybbie's Wednesdays. Hoping to replicate unannounced military family reunions she'd seen on TV, Sybil had spoken with the principal and Sybbie's art teacher about orchestrating something similar with Charles and they had agreed to help. Sybbie knew Charles was arriving today and was overly excited though she didn't know Charles was landing in the early afternoon.

2:15 pm

Over the last month, Sybbie's class had been imitating different artists' work in anticipation of an end of year field trip to the Museum of Fine Arts. This week, they were studying Belgian Painter Rene Magritte and were to be divided into three groups, each replicating one of his 1964 paintings of figures with hidden faces. Sybil had recruited two parent volunteers to pose along with Charles as substitutes for the figures in the paintings. She had purchased an elaborate white sun hat with wide brim and two bowler hats as props, along with a fresh hydrangea stem, green apple, and fake white dove with its wings raised. They all met in the art room before Sybbie's class arrived. Sybil thought Charles looked smashing in the black bowler, but couldn't decided if he was better as THE SON OF MAN or MAN IN A BOWLER HAT1964. In the end she settled on the latter given the bird hid his face more.

Sybil volunteered one afternoon per month so Sybbie was not suspicious as her class marched into the art room. The three models posed silently as Sybbie's group was ushered toward Charles. The students were told they had but ten minutes before they would talk about their drawn versions of the paintings. Charles had a hard time keeping a straight face as he listened to the 6 year-olds' banter. When the teacher called first on an unsuspecting Sybbie to go meet her MAN, Charles slowly lowered the fake bird on a stick as his voice cracked, "Hello Munchkin," Sybbie couldn't believe her eyes or ears.

She ran to Charles who then lifted her up in a bear hug, both crying tears of joy, "CC!" whispered Sybbie as the adults cheered and teacher explained who this was and why Sybbie Branson was departing a few minutes early today.

After exchanging butterfly kisses with the little girl on his lap, Charles explained, "Let's go home sweetheart," before standing up, Sybbie still in his arms.

The three walked back to the Bransons' together, Sybbie between the two holding hands with each. After Sybbie proudly gave Charles the house tour, and let him unpack in the guest room per Sybil's instructions, the trio went to the neighbourhood playground. Afterward they came home and enjoyed a snack whilst Sybbie worked on her homework and Sybil prepared a green salad to pair with the Shepherd's Pie that she had froze last weekend and was now reheating.

5:45 pm

When Tom arrived, he had a few political signs under his arm; no right to vote and yet both Sybil and Tom appeared to be active in local politics; some things never changed. When Charles, sitting beside Sybbie at the dinner table, expressed surprise at how much homework she had to do in first grade, Sybil coyly explained that there was extra homework simply because Sybbie would be missing school on Friday, clarifying they were all taking the train to New York City where Sybbie's recital would be! It was an exceptional opportunity for the entire young troupe that was selected to represent Boston in this multi-city gathering of young dancers. It was a bonus reason why they were so pleased that Charles chose to come to the US for this visit.

The foursome moved to the parlour for the blueberry crumble that Sybil had baked for their pudding. As they settled into the soft furniture, Tom was the one who brought up the topic of Elsie; he'd heard from Sybil of the intervention earlier this month. Sybbie had no recollection of Alice so she found it funny when Charles spoke about having a girlfriend. And, given that Sybbie's pet name for Charles was CC, she assumed Elsie's name was spelled "LC", none of the adults were wise to this, however. When Sybil requested that Charles tell them more about Elsie, Sybbie continued to giggle, prompting Tom to pull her close to quiet his daughter. Charles mentioned Igor, the series of gifts he'd recently given Elsie and the help he'd provided on "her" home in Brighton; he did _not_ mention The MoonWalk let alone that he'd worn a bra for 26.2 miles of overnight walking in public.

Sybil was pleased to note that, in speaking about Elsie, Charles appeared so over the moon, he actually got a little choked up. When Sybbie went upstairs to wash her teeth and ready for bed, Charles acknowledged he still had questions about Alice's letter and how the intervention came to be and that he hoped Sybil would enlighten him. She promised to do so during his visit, but not tonight – the long day was catching up with him by his yawning.

Sybbie came back downstairs in her nightgown and slippers with a doll under one arm, a book under the other. Cuddling up against Charles, Sybbie hoped they might read the book together, but Sybil squashed that quickly observing that "CC is tired, and tomorrow's another day." But Charles was not going to wait another day for the small gift-wrapped package he pulled out of his pocket and presented to Sybbie, explaining that Elsie had helped him pick it out.

Sybbie carefully unwrapped the paper and lifted the lid off the box inside revealing a flat Sterling Silver charm in the silhouette of a Scottie with an emerald and sapphire collar on one side. On the reverse was engraved the name "Shrimpie." As Sybbie hugged him with all her might, Charles explained, "We'll attach it to your Easter bracelet whilst I'm here, Munchkin."


	39. Chapter 39: Happiness is a Warm Puppy

Saturday, 19 May 2018

As he dressed for Thursday, Charles heard the busy-ness of the morning downstairs, a far cry from his mornings alone. Even when Alice was well, their mornings were also quiet, unless... He cleared his head of those thoughts, no sense going there now.

Sybbie was eating her porridge when Charles arrived wishing everyone good morning and greeting Sybbie with a kiss on the temple that made her giggle as Tom packed lunches for his lasses. Very hospitably, Tom had taken the day off and Charles and Tom walked Sybbie to school. Later, they leisurely followed The Freedom Trail, allowing Charles to experience Boston's historical sights. He took many photos including a cafe's window advertisement touting its participation in Boston Bakes for Breast Cancer intent on sharing a digital album of the trip with Elsie. That evening, Sybbie was glad to hear they did not ride the underground without her; she had a surprise for Charles later in his visit.

On Friday in the UK, Elsie laid low until leaving for Becky's in the late afternoon; it was her weekend to stay over again and hoopla over Saturday's Royal wedding was rising around town. Besides, Elsie woke to her left calf bothering her so - delayed effects of The MoonWalk, she assumed - she opted to tackle some overdue spring cleaning.

On Friday in the US, Charles and the Bransons hit the road within the 8 am hour. Their itinerary was aggressive yet thoughtful as there was much that Sybil and Tom wanted to introduce Charles to, beginning with Yale University. With one of the most celebrated Architectural programs and preeminent collections of rare books - including the Gutenberg Bible - in the world, Yale was a natural selection with Charles in mind. To engage Sybbie, they went on the self-guided Kids' Architectural Treasure Hunt around campus. To foster her drawing under Charles's tutelage, at a couple of the stops, Charles and Sybbie sketched together, all on cloud 9.

Approaching Midtown Manhattan, Sybil shared their next stop, a VIP tour of DOWNTON ABBEY The Exhibition. Charles had forgotten about it altogether, let alone its extended New York run. The New York-based director was honoured by their visit, given their direct ties to Highclere Castle. Unlike other visitors whose attention was split between the sets, characters and costumes, the Branson-Carson foursome was there purely for the sets. Just walking into the downstairs kitchen, butler's pantry and staff dining rooms was an emotional journey for Charles and Sybil who strolled arm in arm flooded with memories of Alice. Even Sybil learned a great deal from Charles as she had not lived through the Castle's 1980s renovations.

At the very end of the tour, after the director bid farewell, Sybil handed Charles a note, penned by Robert when Sybil had confirmed their visit to the exhibit. The reverent words were something Charles was unaccustomed to from Robert - not that he thought him incapable - on the contrary, Robert was known for his letter-writing prowess. Rather, Charles was simply accustomed to brotherly jokes and jabs from him, much more sophomoric a tone than the words of praise for his and Alice's work on the Castle, the family's collective gratitude for Charles's ongoing love and devotion to the Granthams, and finally Robert's personal happiness and acknowledgment that prayers had been answered with Charles's recent Elsie revelation coupled with his sincere hope of meeting her soon.

It took Charles some time and Sybil's stabilizing hand on his forearm to make it through the letter. Tom remained supportively nearby for the both of them which only left Sybbie momentarily unminded - just enough time for the precocious 6 year old to be fascinated enough with the brass dressing gong to bang it once with its tethered hammer though hard enough to wake the dead.

"Oh, Sybbie!" all three adults turned to her alarmed, with Charles embellishing, "Munchkin, that is not a toy." He stilled the gong with his right hand and gently allowed the hammer to fall beside it as he knelt down beside Sybbie. "Auntie Alice found that at an antique shop in Hampshire nearly a decade ago, it's traveled all the way to America and shouldn't be played with."

Sybbie considered this before replying with a grin, "But you traveled to America and I play with you." She had a valid point, and Charles was reminded once again his life was rich in smart, beautiful lasses. Later, two of those lasses, along with Tom, treated him to high tea at their hotel where they were sharing a two bedroom, two bath suite with parlour in the center.

6:30 am

Today, Charles again woke earlier than the others, or so he thought. He was sitting up in bed, in his pyjamas, watching BBC's coverage of the Royal Wedding pre-ceremony when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. It was Sybbie, who had slept like a princess in the parlour and heard the muffled television broadcast from Charles's room and wondered if he was watching cartoons. At first disappointed that wasn't the case, she was soon transfixed by the elaborate dresses and hats the ladies on the screen were wearing. Wait until she sees the bride, Charles thought.

When asked if they might watch the festivities together, Charles shooed Sybbie off to his loo first with the promise of doing so when she returned. And so it was that with his beloved Goddaughter cuddled on his lap, whilst plaiting her hair as best he could when she requested, that Charles Carson watched Prince Henry Charles Albert David wed Ms Meghan Markle.

Shortly after the ceremony, Charles's phone pinged with a text from Elsie asking if he had been able to watch. Charles confirmed he had and inquired about the possibility of their FaceTiming. Connection established, Elsie observed his pyjama'd, mussed and unshaven state.

She chuckled, "You didn't exactly make it into your morning suit, did you, Charlie?"

Rubbing his stubbly chin, Charles replied, "No, no it's early here, recall. Besides, today's main event is happening later, here in New York. May I introduce you to the star, Miss Sybbie Branson?" Charles twisted his wrist so that was also on the screen. "Sybbie, this is my special and beautiful friend, Ms. Elsie Hughes who lives with me in London."

"You live with CC?"

"No, sweetheart, I do live in London, but not with CC," she winked while Charles rolled his eyes at his own poor phrasing. Elsie was at ease engaging Sybbie in conversation, telling how she lived with her dog Igor then asking about the new Shrimpie charm, and afternoon recital. When Elsie asked if she was ready, Sybbie affirmed she was adding, "CC plaited my hair."

"Oh," Elsie observed, "don't ask him to iron your leotard, sweetheart." Sybbie scooted down from his lap to retrieve her sketchbook and whilst she was gone, Elsie told him now about her mysterious leg pain and knot she'd subsequently discovered at the same spot on her calf, joking she may need to return for an appointment with Kevin. Charles's counter was a treatment with Isobel.

After he'd disconnected, he asked Sybbie's assessment of Elsie. "She's nice, pretty, talks different, and is jealous of me."

"Jealous?"

"She'd like to snuggle on your lap, CC."

Charles knew he would like that too, but to keep his focus on Sybbie, he asked her, "Why, so I could do this?" As he bent his cheek to Sybbie's giving her a whisker rub which set off a fit of giggles.

As the morning continued and Sybil and Tom took Sybbie to her 11:00 dress rehearsal, Charles strolled The High Line, somewhere he looked forward to visiting given both its urban revitalization and architectural landscaping. Applauding all the elevated park stands for, Charles was pleased to find a Friends of The High Line kiosk inside Chelsea Market toward where Charles purchased a necklace with thistle pendant to give to Elsie.

Yet, at the end of the day, not even an architectural gem and Royal wedding combined delivered to Charles a fraction of the joy that watching Sybbie and her troupe did, dancing on a magnificent stage in a magnificent city. Sybil, Tom and Their little star shared that joy, as evidenced by their broad smiles as the audience stood and applauded.


	40. Chapter 40: Fenway Frank

Monday, 21 May 2018

For his last full day in Boston, Charles was treated to a quiet morning on his own what with Sybbie off to school, Tom back to work and Sybil agreeing to a morning shift at Hospice given her co-workers' flexibility that allowed their New York getaway. Whilst the last thing Sybil wanted to do was leave Charles alone, he encouraged her not to worry - he knew as well as anyone that: a) the dying do not take a day off, b) Sybil was gifted in comforting them and their families, c) she enjoyed her work.

And so, after walking Sybbie to school he returned home and FaceTimed briefly with Elsie, pleased to learn her leg pain had disappeared after she applied some over-the-counter muscle relaxant.

Two blocks from the Bransons', Charles followed the instructions on the nearest bike share kiosk to dispense one of the area's bike share Blue Bikes and proceeded to enjoy exploring various neighbourhoods and parks. It was a glorious, warm and sunny day for a ride. Most recently, he had come through the Back Bay Fens and surrendered his bike at the Hubway station at Jersey and Boylston Streets, per Sybil's instructions. After enjoying an all-seafood lunch nearby, Charles returned to the Hubway.

12:45 pm

Charles looked up when he heard a bicycle bell and was pleased to see it was Sybil on her own Blue Bike. "Hi, Uncle Carson! Isn't it beautiful out?" She had secured the bike in the rack and taken off her helmet which she fastened to the handle of her rucksack along with the one Charles had borrowed from Tom. "I am quite excited, we have a 1:00 appointment nearby at one of Boston's architectural treasures that I have yet to experience."

Together they walked just another block and a quarter north on Jersey Street before they were standing in front of 106-year old Fenway Park - not all that old in Sybil or Charles's books - yet one of the Historic Places on the National Register.

1:00 pm

Their tour guide, Roger, noted how fitting it was that Charles wore a red shirt today - the primary team colour of the Red Sox who have called Fenway home for it's long rich history dating back to its official opening the same week that the Titanic had sunk.

Some of the stories Roger shared over the next hour were specific to the sport of baseball which is close enough to Cricket that they could follow. Other parts were integral to the team and ballpark's rich history including the dots and dashes hidden in the white vertical lines separating the American League score columns on "The Green Monster" that spell out in Morse Code the names of long-time club owner Tom Yawkey and his wife. The tour group stepped into the famed left field wall's scoreboard operator den adorned with literally thousands of players signatures and then up on top of the 37-foot plus wall to the seats added in another theme of Rogers's tour: the early 2000s revitalization of "America's Most Beloved" ballpark. In all, Charles enjoyed the intermingling of sports and history and asked Sybil to take his photo at different points in the tour.

2:45 pm

On their way to Sybbie's school, Charles asked one more request of Sybil. Aside from attending Sybbie's recital, this was the primary reason Charles had looked forward to the entire trip to the US; he needed to know more about how Alice's letter came to be.

With little apprehension, Sybil explained that the letter had entirely been Alice's idea on her own, but with the way Charles understandably seldom left her side in those last weeks of her life, it was difficult to keep it a secret from him, which Alice considered a must. And so about a month before Alice died when she and Tom had visited, whilst Sybil had helped Alice shower, Alice had explained her wish to Sybil and asked her to mention it to the other Grantham women. Subsequently, as they each came to bid their farewells, and were granted some alone time with Alice, she dictated the components of the letter.

"So I can see how you all in the family could be coordinated, but what about Isobel Crawley and Mary Talbot, how did they get Alice's draft?"

"Uncle Carson, that was easy - the paper never left your flat until after it was complete, at which point Mrs. Crawley sent multiple copies in different directions to ensure its contents wouldn't get lost. In fact, prior to then, the paper never left your bedroom. Auntie Alice had us all hide it in the same place - under the mattress on her side of the bed."

Shaking his head in wonder, Charles was moved by Alice's cleverness once again. But then Sybil had one last surprise that shook him from his reverie.

"Uncle Carson, when Tom and I last visited, you may recall that it took both you and I to help Auntie Alice with her shower." Her mention now indeed reminded him. "Whilst we were busy there, Tom hid one more letter that was for you and you alone. She wrote it herself, but wasn't strong enough to tuck it under the mattress. I presume you haven't found it?" Charles was speechless which Sybil interpreted to mean he hadn't. "You might want to look when you return home."

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A/N: "Fenway Franks" are the hot dogs sold at Fenway Park. Fitting chapter title given the tour and frank conversation afterward.


	41. Chapter 41: Bird Dog

Wednesday, 23 May 2018

Sybbie's parting gift/ surprise for Charles was riding the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority so he could take home a keepsake CharlieTicket and then a ferry ride across Boston Harbor to avoid much of rush hour traffic heading to Logan Airport. Subsequently, Charles's return flight had been perfectly smooth as was his Heathrow Express ride into London.

9:45 am

As much as he craved a hot shower and shave, as soon as he had dropped his bag inside his door Charles made a beeline to the bedroom. Standing at the foot of the bed, he contemplated the mattress like never before. He tossed the pillows away and tore the duvet and sheets off to lighten it by any means possible. Grabbing one of the bottom corners, he shimmied the Scandinavian-made mattress off the bed frame for leverage. It was awkward and heavy and accordingly hadn't been moved in an age, probably since the movers set it up here in 2013 - well, other than when Tom somehow managed to lift it in the meantime.

Eventually and with much struggle accompanied by grunting, Charles wedged his head and right shoulder underneath lifting up Alice's former side of the mattress. And then he saw it, a creme envelope, and retrieved it with his left hand before letting the mattress drop back down and he collapsed on top of it.

Alice's monogram was engraved on the back, her familiar script less precise than it once was having written his name on the front. And inside:

 _August 2014_

 _My darling Charles,_

 _You ALWAYS kept your promises; it must be time to do so one final time._

 _Carter's was the name of the mattress shop where we bought this magnificent platform for our love. You know what I asked you to do._

 _XOXO Forever_

 _Alice_

Three plus months into the best thing to happen to him in years, Charles agreed that it was time and he would shop for a new mattress today. He put Alice's card back in its envelope, kissed the flap and set it down on his nightstand.

10:30 am

Charles turned off the rain shower that he'd stood under for several minutes, the water washing over his body as he fantasized about Elsie to the point where he actually cried out. He no sooner had the water off than he heard his phone ringing around the corner and made a point to reach for it on the bench below the towel hook. He saw it was Elsie and answered it with one hand, whilst reaching for the towel with his other.

"Are you home Charlie?"

"Hello, Elsie. Yes, I am. Dropped my bag maybe 45 minutes ago and I can't wait to see you."

"Thinking about me already are you?" she teased. As Charles looked down at his wet, naked front side, he arched his eyebrows thinking, if you only knew. "I can't wait to see you either. My day is oddly chopped up with time for this call now, for lunch and later for tea and dinner, of course. What do you think?"

He cleared his throat, "Part of me wishes to rush right over to wrap you in my arms and smother you with kisses, but I am afraid that will have to wait for at least a while. There's something I've neglected to do until today and I really feel the need to do so ASAP. But tell me, how is your leg doing? Did you go to the doctor?"

"Aye, and they sent me straight away for a Doppler to rule out Deep Vein Thrombosis. The test came back negative, thank goodness, and it's felt fine other than Friday."

"Good to hear, but what about the knot?"

"Oh, it's still there. I have a follow up next week Friday with a Dr. Tapsell."

"Can't you get in sooner?"

"Noooooo, not for a non-emergency. Once the DVT was ruled out and it felt soft according to the tech, there was minimal concern."

"Well, that makes me feel better."

"As it should, now what about us and today?"

"I don't even know what time it is, but I need to towel off and get dressed -"

"Charlie, are you standing there naked as a jaybird?"

"Yes, Elsie, fresh from the shower."

"Damn, why didn't I initiate a FaceTime instead of a simple call?" she giggled. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"Yes, um, there's a shop I need to go to and the market, and...well, I won't want to say goodbye very quickly, so tell me when you are finished for the day and I will meet you at your office then."

"Okay," she sighed, "Half five, Charlie. Must run now, best with your errands. Bye."

11:45 am

As he walked through the mattress shop's doors, he was surprised by the selection in front of him. When the young saleswoman began peppering him with questions about what he was looking for in a mattress, he didn't recall it being so...personal, before. Would he be sleeping alone was one thing but when she asked the gender of his sleeping partner, he emphatically clarified female but asked also why it mattered. "Thermal properties and hot flashes" was her answer as she went on to also inquire how "active" they were. At that point and with red cheeks, he asked if there was someone he could speak with more his own age. The young woman gruffly marched to the back asking the proprietor herself to come over. A very petite woman, she looked vaguely familiar to Charles who introduced himself.

Charles looked familiar to her as well. "Are you Alice Carson's husband? I haven't seen her in forever. I know she ordered a handful of mattresses over the years for her interior design projects. How is she?"

Charles explained Alice's death and received her condolences along with, "Your wife was a lovely woman." Charles felt all the more comfortable dealing with the proprietor especially after she looked up their order in the records archive. She found the exact model though was concerned whether the mattress had failed already, it had been purchased only 7 years prior and carried a 12-year warranty. Charles assured her he was replacing for reasons other than product failure. She deduced it was due to a new relationship and delicately addressed the activity question explaining his answer lent itself to firmness selection and size. With her history of eavesdropping, Charles was glad Beryl was not around as he fumbled his way through answering.

At last they got to the non-disturbing topics of price and delivery time. When Charles asked if it could come any sooner than the 10 days she quoted as standard, she agreed to check further and was pleased to arrange the first delivery appointment for a week from Friday - the same morning as Elsie's doctor's appointment.

5:30 pm

Charles was standing in the hallway outside Elsie's office when she showed her last client out. "Hello Ms. Hughes," he beamed as he followed a smirking Elsie into her inner office remembering their first amorous encounter on the sofa there two months prior.

Elsie closed the door behind him for added privacy. Leaning back against it, she nibbled on her lower lip for he was a sight for sore eyes. "Gods woman, you have no idea how it turns me on when you do that."

"Show me," she beckoned and he slowly walked toward her, never once taking his eyes off hers. Silently, he reached up and brushed the hair back over her left ear before tracing his index finger along her jaw line, tipping her chin up and then meeting her lips with his, gentle at first though soon becoming more heated as Elsie reached up with both her hands and threaded her fingers through his thick locks, whispering breathlessly, "Hello, Mr. Carson."

His other hand had dropped to cup her bottom and gotten wedged between it and the door before he eased up and back. "Wow, what did they feed you in America? I am surprised with how much vigour you have, Charlie."

After an early dinner out where Charles gave Elsie the High Line thistle necklace and Sybbie's MAN IN A BOWLER HAT 1964 imitation - that she'd signed, 'To LC' - Charles demonstrated by way of the love bite he left below Elsie's left ear that his vigour had still yet to wane.

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Thanks for your reading and reviews! I realize I have written conflicting dates in Yappy Hour and Canaille chapters WRT Alice's death. Oh well, she's dead and more importantly, Charles has followed through on his final promise to her. You might be thinking Yippee - and FINALLY.


	42. Chapter 42: Sit, Sit, Stay

Thursday, 31 May 2018

Seeing the two-day old remnants of the love mark on Elsie's neck last week, Charles was embarrassed, apologetic _and_ worried about containing his vigour. To the point where he attempted to discretely put some distance between him and Elsie until his mattress's delivery. To that end…

Preparing to go away on a cruise, Beryl had invited Elsie to go shopping with her last Saturday. Charles encouraged her to go along and then begged out of dinner that night. It was good he didn't know Elsie bought herself a new nightie with Beryl's input.

Monday's bank holiday saw them having brunch with Isobel and Dickie Grey. Elsie attributed Charles's aloofness to Dickie's company; she too found him bland and wished Isobel would focus on Richard. After, Charles asked Elsie for the cottage keys in order to finish the painting. Later in the day, he rode his road bicycle down to Brighton with a change of clothes and good book in tow. He painted on and off on Tuesday and returned to London on Wednesday morning. That afternoon, when Charles suddenly announced he had a Landscape Committee meeting that evening and wouldn't be able to see her, Elsie knew he was avoiding her, but assumed for entirely different reasons; she feared their relationship might be on the rocks.

2:00 pm

The mattress shop phoned: the delivery was on the rocks! Whilst unloading the trailer, the warehouse crew discovered the Swedish factory had shipped the wrong one. The correct mattress would get to him ASAP but it was one of those rare instances when Charles turned curmudgeonly. And when Elsie called a few minutes later and he snapped at her, she snapped right back.

"Charlie! Lest you're wanting to break up with me, you best have compelling reasons for your distance and now rudeness!" Inwardly, he was shaking. He'd been fretting how he would communicate his desire to take their relationship to the next level, but he hadn't thought he'd need to do so defensively. "Charlie?"

"Elsie, I don't want to do this over the phone."

"Oh Gods, you are breaking up with me!"

"No, no, I assure you. That's not it!"

After a moment, she huffed, "I was calling to tell you that my group bailed on me in favor of the weather." She paused, "I need to know what's going on, Charlie. Come to the office and take their place."

"Huh?"

"Half five." She hung up.

"Bugger," he remembered they had promised no more secrets.

5:30 pm

Elsie's inner office door was closed as he stepped into the waiting area, hands in his trouser pockets. Momentarily, Elsie came out in a navy linen shirtdress, glasses on the end of her nose. "Mr. Carson," she beckoned, coolly.

Elsie pointed him to the sofa and shut the door, assuming total control on her turf. Sitting down in her armchair, looking into an empty file, she began, "Mr. Carson, I haven't seen you for almost two months. At the time, you were _wooing_ your girlfriend. How's that been going?" She was all business which, strangely, put Charles more at ease.

"Um, she still won't let me take her out to dinner on Friday nights. Otherwise, things are going quite well."

Elsie was relieved though puzzled by his assessment. "Good for you. Tonight is Thursday night. Would you take her to dinner tonight if she let you?"

"If she'll let me, I suppose I should."

"We'll come back to dinner in a bit. You were also under the treatment of an acupuncturist at the time. Is everything okay there?" He nodded. "You're certain?" He nodded again. She closed the folder. "But there's another issue, whatever's brought you in?" Another nod, less emphatic. "I'm listening, Mr. Carson."

He leaned forward then, elbows on his knees and tapped his right foot nervously. Looking nowhere in particular, he admitted, "I love her. My girlfriend is an extraordinary woman and I'm overjoyed by our relationship. It's real, it's true, and…" clearing his throat, "I want us to live…as closely as two people can for the time that remains on Earth…with _everything_ that involves."

"You want to _marry_ her?" The speed with which Charles lifted his head and expression told her that wasn't it.

After a moment she speculated, "You want to be _intimate_." A statement, not a question.

"Yes," he whispered, eyes gauging her reaction. Elsie's poker face was perfect, just like the rest of her as far as he was concerned. And so he acknowledged what he had learned of her roadblocks from the past; his final promise to Alice; the order he placed just eight days ago; and delivery mix-up that flustered him today. His honesty and inability to even repeat her banal term charmed her. But it was the way his voice trailed to nothingness that prompted her to recreate her actions of two months prior.

Moving to his right side on the sofa, Elsie again rested her left elbow on its backrest and her head against her left hand as she reached for his right with her own. "Thank you, Charlie; for sharing that and being a gentleman."

"I strive to be." He looked over then, her neck conveniently exposed. He frowned and reached with his left hand to brush the now unmarked location as gently as possible with just the tip of his little finger. "But sometimes I fall short."

"But I didn't ask you to stop..." Squeezing his hand reassuringly she continued, "Mr. Carson, I'm pretty sure you'll get _there_ in the end. For now, office hours are over. I understand it's a beautiful night out. How about dining al fresco?"

"That sounds nice," he smiled halfheartedly.

"Then let's make it a date, my Mr. Curmudgeon," she leaned over and gave him a quick peck.

"Cheeky, my Ms. Therapist." He sounded happier already.

9:47 pm

They had stopped at the market on the way to Elsie's picking up ingredients for a beautiful greens salad – spinach, mange tout, cucumber, avocado, spring onions, herbs, lemon juice, mayonnaise and Greek yogurt – as Elsie followed Charles's improvisational lead and they prepared it together. He had also grilled prawns and poured a nice Sancerre whilst Elsie walked Igor and then dashed upstairs. Now, after spooning out the last of their pudding's macerated berries, Elsie had kicked off her sandals and draped her feet over Charles's thigh as they sat at the small table on her patio. He was contentedly caressing her left leg, the one with the bump on the calf though he frowned as he felt it.

"What time is your doctor's appointment tomorrow?"

"Early. 7:30."

He looked at his watch. "Ugh. I should go. I'll wash these up before I do."

"No, I have them. Take the dog out, please, so he doesn't have to go out later."

He nodded as he stood and stretched. Whilst Charles had apparently felt angelic when he added the angel food cake to their trolley earlier, Elsie was now feeling devilish and her mind was made up. As soon as Charles was out the door, she threw the dishes in the sink, dashed upstairs again, lit a few candles in her bedroom and slipped out of all her clothes and into the new grey-blue, satin slip-style nightie with lace trim V-neck and thigh-high hemline that felt and fit like a dream. Conveniently, she'd put fresh sheets on the bed this morning.

"Elsie?" he was back already and whilst the dishes were soaking, he wasn't sure where she was.

"Down in a sec," she called from her bedroom doorway, looking around one last time. She instinctively nibbled on her lower lip and remembered his admission that was a turn on. She giggled then, wondering what effect the new nightie would have on him. Time to find out.

From the powder room where he was washing his hands, he heard her on the stairs. Over the reflection of his left shoulder, he saw her bare feet descending. But when the bare skin continued past her knees and suddenly disappeared behind lace and not much more, his chin dropped.

She noticed she'd caught his eye. "Charlie, don't forget to turn the water off," she teased.

When he turned around then, she was right there, smiling up at him, hands and forearms pillowing against his broad chest. As she looked back and forth between his eyes and lips and began to play with his left ear lobe she explained, "Charlie, my bed may not be on the 30th floor overlooking the Thames, or a Swedish import, but I'm glad if you'd stay and share it."

Her eyes fluttered shut as he leaned down and kissed her.


	43. Chapter 43: Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

Friday, 1 June 2018

5:48 am

Elsie eyes fluttered open as she woke nestled up against an unfamiliar, yet comforting, warmth. Once fully conscious, she spent a good 20 minutes watching him sleep, relaxed by his contented soft snoring. Her eyes wandered from the mussed locks at the top of his head, down to his errant curl, over to the salt and pepper sprigs on his ears, back over to his wild eyebrows, soft eyelashes, and dense beard that she wanted to kiss so badly but refrained from to preserve his sleep. Even depriving herself of that little pleasure, she felt more sated, more loved than she remembered ever feeling before!

Slowly, she eased herself out of the bed. When she couldn't find her nightie anywhere, she instead grabbed her dressing gown off the bench at the foot and as quietly as she could, coaxed the dog to follow her downstairs. Elsie let him out in the yard to do his business whilst she used the loo in the downstairs powder room for hers.

In time, she let the dog in and, as he made a beeline past her and up the stairs, muttered, "Damn dog!" But she didn't chase after him, concerned she may make more of a ruckus than the dog alone whom was likely just headed back to his bed. So she made herself a slice of toast and pot of tea. She remembered Charles saying he preferred coffee in the morning and all she had were instant sachets from Waitrose. Hmmm, she thought, that might have to change now. Realizing the time, Elsie tiptoed upstairs to get dressed for her appointment.

"Damn you, Igor!" she whispered as she popped back into the bedroom. The dog had returned to bed all right – her bed. Charles will have a fit if he wakes up to this, Elsie thought. She succeeded in rousing the dog, but failed in another respect because she also woke Charles in the process.

"Elsie?" he yawned as he reached out for her hand with his left, and scratched his head with his right.

"Go back to sleep, love. The dog's been out and I need to leave for my doctor's appointment."

He grimaced and then, looking around the room that was quite obviously hers - feminine and organized yet cluttered - the grimace morphed into a smile. "I love you," he stated simply before turning himself over wearing nothing but that smile.

8:00 am

His wake-up call an hour plus ago was the most pleasant and perfect he could imagine. Now, however, was the polar opposite as he stirred to the horrendous smell of a gaseous dog and one that he quickly discovered was lying next to him on the bed. "Hey," he prodded the dog's haunches, "This spot's reserved for Elsie – and _that_ smells disgusting!" As the dog jumped off the bed, Charles sat up and took in more of the room, looking forward to Elsie returning home. When he flung back the coverlet, amongst the physical reminders of last night was a small, untidy pile of grey-blue fabric bunched near his feet.

8:30 am

When she returned, fresh Pain au chocolat and two coffees from Julius Meinl in her hands, the dishes she'd washed earlier were all put away and Charles was out back watering the young dogwood. "Charlie?" she called from the slider, prompting Igor to come running and Charles to empty the watering can and brush his hands together whilst striding toward her as well.

From five steps away he asked, anxiously, "What did the doctor say?"

"What, no morning kiss?" she pouted.

He scrunched his eyebrows, "Not until after you tell me what the doctor said."

"Fine. I'm fine – just getting old, Mr. Carson. Varicose veins is the diagnosis – I've some that are enlarged and twisted into that knot is all. Nothing serious to worry about according to Dr. Tapsell."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"In that case, come here for your morning _after_ kiss, you spry, young lass," he grinned and she obliged.

As his lips began to make their way to a most alluring spot he'd found behind her left ear last night, she giggled. "Charlie, your whiskers tickle!"

Though his arms remained wrapped around her waist holding her close, he pulled his head back slightly then and spoke directly into her ear, "Sybbie had the same reaction in New York. Would you like a whisker rub too, Elsie?" before gently raising and lowering his cheek against hers.

"Not exclusively, thank you. Though if it comes as part of a package deal, I can think of one or two _other_ things I'd be willing to have one paired with." Then she attempted to waggle her far-from-prominent brows in true Charles Carson fashion and, failing miserably, she burst into laughter, before handing him the tray of coffees and pulling him back upstairs by his free hand.

Eventually, powdered sugar, dark chocolate and luke-warm coffee never tasted so sweet as they did on this initially overcast morning that turned rainy by 11:00 and kept them inside if not upstairs the remainder of the day.

By the time the rain stopped in the 6:00 pm hour, Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson stuck to protocol and did not go out for Friday night dinner; this time he didn't even offer.


	44. Chapter 44: King Charles

Saturday, 2 June 2018

Charles received another call from the mattress shop's owner. She felt horrible about the delivery mix up and, remembering Mrs. Carson fondly, went in search of a workaround. The exact same model was in stock with one of her competitors and she arranged to have it delivered this afternoon. In the end, she would actually lose money on the transaction, though gained more knowing she'd honoured the memory of a loyal customer by going above and beyond for her widower.

Only problem was, Charles was due to take Becky to THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES this afternoon. He'd reserved the car service to and from the matinee and everything.

After confirming the freight lift was even available today, he explained the predicament to Elsie. She could see how important it was to Charles to expedite the delivery and honour his date with Becky. So problem-solver that she was, she sent Charles home to dress whilst she picked up Becky and she herself would wait for the delivery at his flat.

Becky was so excited about attending the ballet, she'd hardly slept last night. Elsie helped her dress in the white blouse and rose-coloured A-line skirt they had picked out the weekend of the Royal Wedding; Violet already had her matching ribbon on her collar.

"What's Charlie wearing? Do you think he'll wear our tie today?"

"He will surely have a suit on and he likes to wear a tie to show respect for the cast and crew." In truth, she knew the warm grey with pink pinstripe suit he planned to wear. She'd helped him pick it out from his wardrobe before his Boston trip yet after she and Becky had bought the rose with blue tie from John Bates with the plan it would be their thank you to Charles for taking Becky to the ballet. She did not know what shirt he was planning to wear but knew his outfit would pair nicely with Becky's and she would be comfortable and able to manage alone should she need to use the loo.

1:30 pm

Charles had advised she could park in the South Bank Tower's car park; why he'd never mentioned that possibility before was a curiosity, however, Becky's awe when Elsie pointed high in the sky that, "That's where Charlie lives," was a delight. As on all her past visits, the door staff was most welcoming. Elsie instructed Becky to pop her ears as they whisked upwards. When the lift doors opened, Elsie, who had a garment bag on her arm, pointed Becky to Charles's door to ring the bell. Soon his footsteps were heard.

He greeted each warmly: for Becky, a gentle squeeze of her hand; for Violet, a pat on the head; for Elsie, a kiss on the lips as he welcomed them inside. Like Elsie three months prior, Becky was captivated by the view yet a little afraid, so Charles offered his elbow to step closer to the windows. Elsie's heart swelled with each kindness he effortlessly yet thoughtfully extended to Becky. She draped the garment bag over a chair at his dining table and then joined them at the window, smiling at the sight of her two loves. When Charles caught her eye over Becky's shoulder, he winked and blew her an air kiss that stirred Elsie's insides to the point she cleared her throat and looked away, though with a smirk.

"You smell good, Charlie. Is that what you're wearing to the ballet?" Becky interrupted. It wasn't quite what Elsie had described beforehand. Yes, he had trousers with braces on, along with a bright blue shirt, but the collar was open and no jacket, Becky was disappointed to note.

"Um, not quite; my trousers have a matching jacket and I just haven't decided what tie to wear." In fact, he knew he was wearing whatever the Hughes sisters had brought him, though Elsie had only revealed they were gifting him a tie that would pair well with that suit. That prompted Becky to remember the gift which she dug out from Elsie's garment bag. He seemed most pleased when he unwrapped the tie then, noting this one's striking blue thistle print! When he inquired of the garment bag's other contents aloud - again knowing full well it was whatever Elsie planned to wear to their dinner booking later - he suggested Elsie follow him to hang it up whilst he put on the new tie. Out of eyesight from Becky, they stole a few quick kisses before Charles decided he must focus on his tie. As he checked himself in the mirror, Elsie gave him a last kiss noting he really did smell good.

They returned to the living room hand in hand then and Becky was pleased to see Charles in full dress. "Charlie, you're like the emperor himself - in your new clothes!" Charles and Elsie looked at one another, pleased by Becky's interest in the title, though realizing she knew nothing of the fairy tale's plot.

Elsie sniggered then and whispered, "I'll let you explain this one, Mr. Carson, so you can get a sense of what I've needed to deal with my whole life. And oh, would you look at the time? You best be going so you aren't late." As Charles looked helplessly back at Elsie, she worked to push all three toward the door. "Any special instructions tied to the delivery, Mr. Carson?" she cleared her throat and nodded back toward the bedroom.

"Um, no, thank you, though."

"You can thank me later," she whispered in his ear when she kissed him on the cheek.

She then kissed Becky goodbye, telling her to stick with and mind Charles and have a good time. "We will!" Becky answered back as she took hold of the elbow Charles offered her.

2:35 pm

A photo area was set up in the lobby again and Charles noted the same yellow foam crown, minus ALICE's red heart, was available once more. With no line, he suggested they have their photo taken. He posed on bent knee as Becky delighted in pretending to crown him. This time, the moment was captured by the designated photographer on her camera, on Charles's phone, and in wider angle by a second photographer from the ballet's PR staff who was roaming the hall. Charles sent the one from his phone to Elsie who knew they'd arrived.

Although they went into the private pre-performance reception area with its posh offerings, Becky was solely interested in the blue candy floss she'd seen in the hands of a young lad outside so they retreated to the lobby concession line. "Why do you Hughes sisters adore the blue floss?"

Daft man. "Blue is on the Scottish flag." Alrighty then.

3:45 pm

At intermission, Charles noted Becky's floss was all gone, much of its remnants still on her lips. He took her back to the reception room and foregoing a tipple himself, helped Becky clean the sticky blue residue from her face with his handkerchief which he opted to then toss in the rubbish rather than return to his pocket.

Meanwhile, Elsie received the delivery, no problem. Unusually, her lower back was bothering her and it didn't help when she lifted each of the bed's heavy corner in process of making it. She chose to lie down for a spell and quickly decided it was more comfortable than any mattress she had ever been on. Once again, Charles Carson settled for nothing but the best. Eventually she changed into the sleeveless floral print dress she carried in and returned to the Phaidon monograph she'd grabbed from Charles's study.

5:00 pm

Charles had phoned from the car and asked Elsie to meet them downstairs to ride to their early dinner booking. Charles remained in the back with Becky whilst Elsie climbed into the front passenger seat. Elsie could tell from the warm banter the two had gotten along famously and Becky's broad smile confirmed she had enjoyed the ballet.

Fish! Borough Market was half full when they arrived affording continued conversation between them. Elsie declined Charles's offer to select a bottle of wine for them; she needed to drive Becky home later but she'd also taken a powder for her back.

7:20 pm

After, the four - with Violet, of course - strolled back to South Bank Tower arm in arm with Charles between the two Hughes sisters.

Though still early, Becky was yawning from lack of sleep and all the day's excitement. So Elsie planned to drive her home shortly. Whilst Becky used the loo, Charles asked Elsie to come back and spend the night. "But there's Igor. I have to get home and let him out."

"Bring him along, I don't mind. Please." He could be so irresistible, and so she agreed. "Becky, it was an honour to escort you to your first ballet. Please know you and Violet are welcome here any time and I hope you will come back really soon. We can use my pizza stone again!"

"That would be fabu, Charlie. And thank you for today." She surprised him then with a sweet embrace around his middle.

"You're very welcome, Petal." he returned the hug and kissed her a gentle goodbye on the top of the head before turning to Elsie. He kissed her on the cheek and whispered, "Don't forget your toothbrush."

8:45 pm

Elsie returned, dog, dog food, toothbrush, new nightie and a clean pair of knickers in tow. She felt a little embarrassed checking in at the front desk, arriving at this hour with her valise on her shoulder; surely it must be obvious to all and sundry she'd be spending the night.

Immediately after arriving upstairs, she headed to the loo. As he filled a bowl of water for Igor at the kitchen sink, she stormed straight to her purse on the kitchen counter, digging inside. "Double bugger!" she lamented as she pressed her hand against her head.

"Elsie, what's wrong?" he still had the blue shirt on but the tie was gone and tails out, his suit replaced by a pair of jeans.

"Charlie, maybe this isn't such a good idea after all. I need a Tammy."

"A what?"

"A tampon."

He dug around then in the powder room's vanity and found a small supply of them that Alice had taught him a good and thoughtful host should always have on hand. And acknowledging this altered his plans, asked that Elsie stay, regardless.


	45. Chapter 45: Bloodhounds

Sunday, 3 June 2018

5:15 am

As soon as Charles bolted out the lift doors into the lobby carrying Elsie in his arms, Martin the doorperson pushed open the door to the driveway for them. He had also hailed a taxi per Charles's phone request two minutes prior and opened the vehicle's rear door as well.

They were now inside a sterile ER bay at Guy's Hospital, after a rushed taxi ride, Elsie having been attended to immediately by a doctor and nurse as they came through the ER's main entrance. Charles - looking distraught - and the doctor listened intently as Elsie retold the story of how she'd woken a couple hours ago to an unfamiliar and intense pain on her left front side that subsided after a couple of minutes, enough for her to fall back asleep, and then reappeared an hour later, more intensely. Only when she inhaled deeply and held her breath was she able to tolerate the peak pain.

Of course, that was impractical for any length of time and so she had climbed out of bed and attempted to walk around but found herself doubled over in more pain. When she used the toilet she was horrified to find blood in the bowl. Immediately after is when she woke Charles explaining the need to go to hospital.

"Describe the colour, Ms. Hughes," the doctor requested.

"Deep red, like a full-bodied wine." Charles bit down on his knuckle to keep from crying as he turned white as a sheet.

"I'd like to get a scan of your abdomen, see what's going on in there." Elsie nodded in understanding before another wave of pain claimed her. Charles reached out to grab her hand then, holding on tight.

"Charlie," she wimpered.

"I'm here, Elsie, right here." Then addressing the doctor, "Can you do anything about the pain for her?" Charles pleaded. "She had a couple of spells like this on our way over, and that ride was only a few minutes long."

"Yes, Mr. Hughes, but I'd like to get her into a gown first and get a urine sample, if at all possible, then we'll start a line. She'll need to lie still for the scan anyway and the IV meds will help with that."

"It's Carson, Mr. Carson," he cleared his throat.

"Oh, and you are –"

"Charlie's my partner. I would like him here please. But no pain meds." Elsie pleaded.

"Unless there's an allergy you're aware of, you're getting one dose, for sure. I'm going to call Radiology, get them ready for your scans."

The doctor excused herself leaving Charles and the nurse to help Elsie change. The nurse rolled Elsie to the toilet in a wheelchair and upon returning her to the gurney, left to retrieve the IV whilst Charles was trying his best to be strong for Elsie. "Not the most flattering print on you, my lass," he thumbed the gown's unfitted shoulder. Elsie squeezed her eyes shut again as pain descended on her once more. "Oh, my love, I'm so sorry to see you hurting like this." He stroked her forehead lovingly with the backs of his fingers.

"Charlie, it hurts so bad, and I'm _so_ cold."

"I see that, I'm sure we can get you a nice warm blanket in addition to the pain meds."

"And some booties – have them right here, miss." Elsie shivered as the warm blanket was pulled up to her chin. "Now, let's get this line in." Charles had to look away, he always hated this part and he'd seen it too many times before.

A few minutes later the doctor returned and peeled the curtain back. "Okay, Ms. Hughes, Radiology is ready for you. Mr. Carson can't come along but you'll only be gone 10, 15 minutes."

With a tear rolling down, Elsie looked up at Charles and asked, "Will you be here when I return, Mr. Hughes?" The meds were kicking in and she was starting to not be herself.

He bent down then, so his eyes were level with hers, brushed away that lone tear with his thumb and gently commanded, "Look at me. Look at my eyes. I'm not going anywhere without you, Elsie Hughes." And then he winked and smiled before kissing her forehead. "See you again shortly, love."

As soon as her gurney was through the double doors of the ER headed into the building's bowels, he exhaled deeply and then stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, his own stomach in such a knot over the current situation he thought he would retch. The nurses noticed his pale colour when he returned and brought him a cool compress and a bottle of energy water encouraging him to sit down and stabilized himself.

Elsie returned a few minutes later, curled up in a fetal position. When she complained about the soreness of her lower back, Charles massaged it as best he could through the blanket.

The doctor returned again. "Have you ever had a kidney stone before, Ms. Hughes?" Elsie shook her head no. "Well, I'm afraid you've got a record-setter in your left kidney now." She called up the digital x-ray on the display and pointed to it. "It's likely moved around some and that's what's caused your bleeding, and the pain. Now, the real problem comes with it's size – usually, the body can pass a stone up to 5 millimeters diameter." She paused. "While I personally have seen up to 9, yours is a healthy 7." Elsie groaned her disappointment at the news.

"I'm going to prescribe you one medication that should relax the ureter and _maybe_ you'll pass it, more likely though, you're going to need to undergo a procedure called lithotripsy that will break the stone up via shockwaves. I'm assuming you don't have a urologist, Ms. Hughes?"

"No."

"But I do," Charles piped in and rolled his eyes, clarifying, "My prostate business."

"If Mr. Carson likes his doctor, I suggest you start there, otherwise, I can make a referral. I'm afraid there's not much more we can do for you today beyond the FlowMax and pain meds I'll send you home with."

"Oh, I hate that stuff, it makes me loopy to the point I've been told I sing like a canary."

"Any questions for me?"

"Can't you do the procedure today?" Charles asked anxiously.

"It's not life-threatening, therefore, we best give Ms. Hughes' body a chance to pass the stone because the lithotripsy _is_ considered traumatic."

"So how long do we let it go?"

"The question is more, how long can Ms. Hughes tolerate the pain? I've been told a kidney stone hurts worse than a vaginal birth."

Elsie groaned louder then, "Bloody lucky me! How long with the bleeding?"

"Until the stone is out."

"It sounds like a lot of blood, is that a concern?" Charles asked, more composed than her though not disguising his concern.

"You'd be surprised, it doesn't take much blood to discolour urine as significantly as Ms. Hughes has described. So no, not a significant concern." The doctor looked at them both compassionately, "I know this isn't easy. Step one is just see the urologist – and take your meds!"

With that, she wished them well and excused herself, leaving Charles to help Elsie get back into her dress. She moved gingerly, wincing as the meds were still not fully kicked in, though getting closer. "So it wasn't my period after all, Charlie."

"Nope, not your monthly."

"Ha! My monthly hasn't been _monthly_ in forever. I told you, I'm getting old, Mr. Carson."

"C'mon, Ms. Hughes, let's get you out of here and back home."

7:00 am

Home, as far as Charles was concerned, was his flat at the South Bank Tower. He was reluctant to leave Elsie alone but he needed help, so regardless of the early hour, he phoned Thomas Barrow who came upstairs in order to walk Igor for them and at the same time offer any other assistance he could. He was hopeful to see Elsie but Charles discouraged it at the moment, she was very loopy now. Thomas agreed to another time then.

Whilst Thomas and Igor were out, Charles came and sat beside Elsie on the bed, holding her hand. She was indeed saying all sorts of things – some of which he could confirm, having experienced them from his own perspective the last few days; he made mental notes on much of what she said, for future reference; and _all_ of it made him arch his eyebrows.


	46. Chapter 46: For the Love of Elsie

Monday, 4 June 2018

Charles had left a message with Dr. Grigg's after-hours service on Sunday and was pleased to receive a call back this morning in the 8:00 hour that his oldest chum and current urologist could see Elsie later this morning for a consultation.

Before they left for that appointment, they made a list of items to pick up from Elsie's. A part of her wanted to go home and rest in her own bed but when Charles asked how she foresaw navigating up and down the stairs she capitulated. He also helped her compose a mass email to her clients advising of her medical situation and cancellation of all appointments through at least this week.

They had not called Beryl, the Masons were away on their belated anniversary cruise. There was nothing Martha could do, so they didn't call her. Becky wouldn't understand completely so whilst they did not share the news with her directly, they did call Rose to ensure she had Charles's phone in case there should be an emergency with Becky. And they called Isobel because Elsie was "willing to do anything" to avoid any pain medications beyond what was absolutely necessary.

10:30 am

"Bloody ridiculous," she muttered as she looked around Dr. Grigg's waiting room.

"What's that, love?" Charles sat in the chair immediately to her left yet hadn't heard her fully.

" _This_ ," she subtly nodded her head, "is bloody ridiculous."

"What? You've an appointment on the first day – the first morning – possible, which I think is bloody brilliant."

She turned her head toward him now and rolled her eyes before covering her mouth to prevent any lip reading by others, "Charlie, look at all the other patients – why they're all male and at least what, a decade older than me? We might as well be sitting amongst a room full of dalmations there are so many spots on skin here."

"Elsie Mae Hughes, I happen to be one of the 'other patients.' Are you calling me 'old' now? Besides, need I remind you, you've declared yourself 'old' twice now in the last several days, and unlike some things I've heard from you, both those pronouncements were absent any pain meds." He waggled his brows now.

"Oh Gods, Charlie, what have I said?" She'd turned red now as her imagination ran wild.

"Ms. Hughes." The nurse was calling her back.

"Come with me, please."

"Oh...I don't know, Elsie, I think it's going to get pretty personal back there."

"What, aren't you the center of my personal business? Please?"

Dr. Grigg assessed the films the hospital had sent over and explained the lithotripsy procedure that was quite successful but required full anaesthesia, a temporary stent and another week of recovery time. His staff was able to confirm his and the equipment's availability for this Thursday afternoon. He was happy to help in the short term but the longer term follow up care that he expressed interest in delivering as well - to help diagnose the provenance of the stone and hopefully avoid a reoccurrence - pleased both Elsie and Charles.

There was paperwork to complete with one of Dr. Grigg's nurses and whilst Elsie stayed to begin that, Charles stepped out into the hallway to thank his old friend. "I'm impressed, Charlie-boy. She's lovely and stubborn at the same time - refusing the morphine pills? Bless her heart."

"Yes, well, she's agreed to some other pain management help and we're headed there next. Thanks again, Charlie. We'll see you Thursday."

"At the latest. Good luck," Grigg added before shaking hands with his old friend.

12:45 pm

Isobel shifted one of her regular patients to Dr. Strallan to accommodate Elsie who for the third time in two plus days was telling the story of her kidney stone episode to a medical professional. Charles was with her once again, ensuring she told the whole story as she was tiring.

"Anything else going on?" Isobel asked with a wink before putting down her pen. She had deduced by way of their closeness now and details of where Elsie had been when in the storyline that they were now fully together and she was ultra-happy for them. That is what she was hinting at with the wink so she was surprised to hear Elsie add mention of a lump accompanied by pain in her leg over the last couple of weeks and last Friday's varicose vein diagnosis.

Isobel was once again laser-focused. "Show me where." Gingerly, Elsie bent her knee and guided Isobel's hand to the lump on her leg. "Fascinating." Elsie and Charles wondered of what she was speaking. "And the doctor you saw Friday diagnosed this as a varicose vein?"

Elsie nodded and both she and Charles puzzled.

"Elsie, I think you have just demonstrated the wonders of Eastern medicine and the shortfalls of the Western variety."

"What do you mean, Isobel?" Charles demanded to know.

She put down the folder then and walked over to the 3D scale androgynous human model with screened acupuncture points on its surface. "The lump is right here, wouldn't you say?" she was pointing to the model's left calf and Elsie nodded her affirmation. "Now, I don't know which is the chicken or the egg here, but that point on the leg is a kidney point."

"You mean they're related?" Elsie asked, dubiously.

"No, she means you were misdiagnosed by that doctor you saw last week!" Fury and memory colliding inside Charles then.

"No, Charles, it probably is a varicose vein. What I'm saying is he's a Western-trained doctor and all he looked for was that. Same thing with the doctors who saw Elsie for the kidney. Eastern practitioners like myself put the seemingly disparate pieces together," looking quite smug now, Isobel continued. "This is going to sound horrible under the circumstances, but you just made my day, Elsie!"

Momentarily, Isobel proceeded to needle Elsie in the leg, lower back, and foot. Leaving Elsie alone in the darkened room then, Isobel gave Charles a crash course in how to locate these exact points to replicate the treatment via acupressure over the next few days.

After Isobel's, they went to Elsie's where Charles, following Elsie's instructions, packed a small bag with her laptop, power cord, phone charger, shampoo, razor, a jumper, two t-shirts, a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants, bra, hair ties and five pairs of knickers. When he'd asked if she wanted other pyjamas, she sheepishly admitted she liked the solution they'd improvised yesterday on their return from hospital - one of his t-shirts. It was the best he'd seen her look in a day and a half, and he rewarded her honesty with a lingering kiss on the temple.

7:00 pm

Somehow, Rose had let it slip that Elsie was ill which upset Becky greatly to the point that Becky phoned Charles who tried assuring her Elsie was being well cared for by many, himself included. FaceTime was not enough, Becky needed to see Elsie for herself. And so Charles called Thomas Barrow once again and asked if he might kindly pick up Becky and bring her back to see Elsie; the younger man was thrilled to help.

Becky had just arrived and she was truthfully an emotional mess. She hadn't eaten any dinner she was so upset about Elsie. And so Charles prepared another toasted cheese sandwich as Elsie herself had requested earlier to go along with the liters and liters of water, tea, and lemonade she was drinking in the fading hope of passing the kidney stone on her own.

When there was just the slightest mention of calling Thomas back to take Becky and Violet back home, she threw a childish tantrum unlike any Elsie had seen from her since, well, they'd learned their father Albin was dying.

"I don't want to go Elsie, I don't want to leave you! Charlie said I was welcome here any time!" Charles stood helplessly beside the bed watching his girlfriend attempt to comfort her younger sister. Concerned about the welfare of them both, Charles interrupted.

"Becky...Becky!" he had her attention now. "You're right. I did say that, and I always try to keep my promises. So I am wondering if you would please stay here tonight, and the next couple of nights. You can help keep Elsie company and I am sure you can help me take good care of her. Would you do that?"

Both Hughes sisters were wiping tears from their eyes now, Becky out of relief, and Elsie regarding his loving gesture even though he surely knew by now it meant more work than help for him.

9:30 pm

"Thank you, love," Elsie said to him whilst Becky and Thomas took the dogs outside for a walk. He had made the pull out bed in the study/ guest room and was taking a momentary break from it all, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, brushing the hair off her forehead as her head rested on the pillow.

"What do you have there, Charlie, in your other hand?"

"Another of my t-shirts - for Becky - and a bell. I should have thought of it earlier. Should either of you need anything, I want you to ring it to call me."

"I'm not following, you'll be right here." He shook his head no.

"I think Becky should sleep here with you, she's so upset and, well, she doesn't know about us yet."

"Good points and you, my love, need your sleep. You have two dogs, and two Hughes sisters under your roof suddenly after having none of us here a week ago."

He chuckled then, the irony of it all and then he looked at her with all his love, "I wouldn't have it any other way, Elsie. I love you and want you to feel better soon."


	47. Chapter 47: Pound

Thursday, 7 June 2018

Becky Hughes was having the time of her life! She so seldom had the opportunity to spend extended time with Elsie. Though still concerned over her beloved, older sister's health, seeing Elsie doted on by Charles, whom she was coming to think of not just as Elsie's boyfriend but her new, protective older brother – Aaron reincarnate – was wonderful.

Charles made Becky feel helpful by giving her some household responsibilities – like taking the rubbish to the chute room, feeding the dogs and putting fresh water in the flower vases at Elsie's bedside and in the loo and monitoring Elsie's fluid intake. When Elsie was resting, which was often, Charles supplied reams of graph paper for her to draw on and there were always the windows to look out from. When Charles was preparing meals, he played a version of I SPY by naming off items like people, umbrellas or boats for Becky to count from up high. And she LOVED the rain shower in the master en suite – to the point where Elsie had to shoo her out two of the past three mornings.

As the time for Elsie's procedure drew nearer, there was less and less for him to do; she was off solid food as of the last night and the near constant pain left her irritable and exhausted. Worrying about Elsie and caring for Becky too was exhausting him and not affording them much alone time. So he was grateful for Thomas Barrow's dog walking assistance several times a day and taking Becky along with him.

2:00 pm

Elsie's lower left leg rested limply in Charles's lap, his hand kneading the knot, as she lay with her arms folded over her eyes so anxious for the ache in her side to be gone.

"Charlie, you don't have to do that you know."

"Don't have to do what?"

"Daft man. Massage my leg that hasn't been shaved in _five_ days," she moaned then as he hit a tender spot.

He didn't mind at all and smiled, "Kind of sounds like I do." She lifted her calf slightly then and dropped it, a little love pat in a way. "Elsie, what exactly does Thomas do?" He'd been wondering.

"Professionally? Not much. As you know from your Landscape Committee work, he volunteers a lot. He helped start a non-profit that focuses on teenage suicide prevention."

"Where'd he get the money for that?"

"Government grants and Simon."

"Meaning what?"

"Simon is his Sugar Daddy. Simon was an art dealer, now just a collector. He did very well, and retired even younger than someone else I know."

"Hmmm, I should introduce them to Ham and Cora – the landscaping and art connections. By the way, they send their best and want us to come to Hampshire soon, after you're feeling well enough."

"That sounds nice," she gritted her teeth then with another spike in the pain.

"Not much longer, love, I promise."

5:30 pm

Becky had agreed that once Elsie's procedure was over, and she saw firsthand that Elsie was better, she could go back to the group home. Anna, who'd grown concerned after not seeing Elsie for several days, had phoned and upon learning their predicament had wanted to meet them at hospital. It was she who would drive Becky home later.

Elsie's procedure was scheduled for 4:30, naturally, Charles had delivered her, Becky and Violet to the hospital entry just before 4:00 and met them and Anna at the basement Urology Center after he returned from the car park. Seeing Elsie's pain intensify, and knowing she was lying in the procedure room with the anesthesiologist, Charles was growing more agitated by the minute at Grigg's tardiness.

At last, Grigg stormed in wearing his green scrubs, apologizing for his delay attributing it to being stuck at another hospital. He assured them he would start the procedure soon, it would be some 45 minutes to an hour and he would take the very best care of Elsie. It wasn't long after that when all began to hear a repeated pounding noise coming from inside where Grigg had disappeared, and to see small objects around the waiting area shaking. Charles determined that it was the shockwaves Elsie was being subject to. The noise spooked the normally unflappable Violet and was rather scary to Becky as well, so Anna coaxed them out to the hallway to pass the time. Whilst imagining whatever was happening to Elsie with the pounding was unsettling for Charles too, he wanted to stay nearby.

In time, there was silence and Grigg came out again, advising Charles the procedure had been a success: the stone was crushed, drainage stent in, and soon Elsie would come out of the anesthesia; he invited Charles to come back to the recovery bay as she did so.

After signing her paperwork at the desk, Grigg came to Elsie's bedside where Charles was holding her hand, stroking the back of it gently with his thumb. He shut the curtain behind him. "Charlie, she's going to be pretty weak and tired from all this. You need to make sure she takes it easy still and continues to drink _lots_ of fluids. And, by the looks of you, you need to get some rest yourself. Who were the others with you, in the waiting area, if I may ask?"

Charles explained Anna and Becky's ties to Elsie; when she started to stir, Charles leaned down, saying her name aloud, resting his other hand on her forehead. Though her eyes had yet to open, she was talking once again, saying things that made him blush, especially when he made eye contact with Grigg who got a kick out of it all.

"Charlie?" her voice was weak but it grabbed his attention.

"Yes, sweetheart. I'm right here." She smiled then. "Dr. Grigg is here too, Elsie. You're kidney stone-free thanks to him."

"Thank God," her eyes were half open now and she licked her lips.

"Elsie, since you're in such good hands, I'll leave you be and see you in a week. I'll have the nurses bring you biscuits and juice straight away to help clear your fog." Grigg looked back and forth between them now, replaying Elsie's semi-conscious revelations of moments ago, and chuckled, "I've been wondering what this old bloke did to deserve someone as special as you, Elsie, but you just clarified it for me. Way to go, Charlie-boy." As Grigg exited her bay, he patted Charles on the back, as Charles's eyes followed him.

Confused, Elsie continued, "Charlie, he calls you Charlie. And what did he mean by that?"

"Never mind that now, let's focus on your recovery."

9:12 pm

Elsie was free of pain, Becky and Violet were back home, and Igor spending a long getaway weekend in the country at the invitation of Thomas and Simon. But there was more bliss to the early evening than just the peace and quiet that surrounded them now; there was also the cool duvet surrounding them as they cuddled together. Charles slowly fingered Elsie's upper arm and the sleeve of his t-shirt that encircled it. The subtle motion was making her eyelids quite heavy, though from the corner of her eye she noticed he appeared to be thinking deeply. She squeezed his ribcage then and sleepily asked, "Charlie, what are you thinking about?" When he didn't answer immediately, she looked up and confirmed he had heard her. "Remember, no more secrets."

He grinned then, "Well, for starters, did you really see my bare bottom some weeks back?"


	48. Chapter 48: Rawhides

Sunday, 10 June 2018

8:30 am

At Charles's dining table, Elsie savored second helpings of spelt toast and scrambled eggs; her appetite and strength were coming back.

"I'll ask her." Charles had reappeared from the study in his jeans, red polo shirt and socks, phone to his ear. "Ham wants to know if my Scottish lass would like to wager on today's England-Scotland cricket match."

She wiped her mouth and rolled her eyes; Charles had advised her 24 hours ago of his full Sunday in front of the telly. Seems Robert had similar plans. "Bottle of my single malt versus your piss-water gin?" she snorted.

"Oooh, that would be an 'aye' if I ever heard one." He chuckled "Bye, Ham, thanks for ringing. Yeah, will do."

He kissed the top of her head then and squeezed her shoulder. "My lass with sass _is_ returning. I'm glad. Drink some more tea, love." He refilled her cup.

"Argh, I'm going to drown in my own 'tea pee' before this bloody stent is out," she muttered. "What did Ham want?" She hadn't even met the man, yet was referring to him endearingly.

"To check on how you're doing and ask if I'd joined yesterday's charity ride."

He hadn't mentioned anything before now but then their whole last week had been thrown upside down. "Say more," the therapist was back and she was nibbling strawberries off the stem.

He waved it off as he crossed to the kitchen. "The London Nightrider, similar to the MoonWalk, it's riding overnight 50 or 100 kilometers in and around the city."

"That sounds far."

"Not much more than my rides to or from Brighton."

"So why didn't you?"

"You sound like Ham who said I'd be a bigger man than him if I did the ride. Anyway, I thought about it early on, but then decided against it."

"Why? It'd be good for you."

"Because what's _best_ for me… _is you_." He wrapped her up in his arms now. It was so good to see her upright, even if she hadn't yet made it beyond donning a dressing gown.

"Hmmm, what a compelling argument, Mr. Carson. But I do wish you'd signed up for the ride."

9:00 am

 _Was Charlie in a charity ride yesterday?_

"It's Martha, she wants to know if you rode yesterday." Charles was washing dishes as Elsie dried.

"Why is everyone wondering if I rode in a bloody charity race yesterday?" Elsie shrugged her shoulders.

 _No_ she typed back.

"Martha says you should have and that I should ride with too – ha! 'Maybe next year' was her conclusion."

Martha had become so technically adept in the last few months, she included a link and Elsie clicked on it – her eyes growing very large.

"Charlie, were you aware of a _second_ charity ride yesterday?" He looked puzzled, then she showed him the screen. "Charlie, is it possible that Ham was asking you about _this_ ride?"

He arched his brows exclaiming, "Oh Gods!"

His 'Oh Gods' was for the 2018 World Naked Bike Ride that included hundreds of riders – many of them in the altogether – riding to protest car culture and promote cycling safety. London was one of the cities.

She laughed then, picturing them amongst the others on the screen right then.

"What's so funny? Those are serious issues."

Wiping a tear from her eye, she continued, "I'm sure they're serious issues, I'm just picturing us pedaling along with the crowd – I think we'd stop traffic, Mr. Carson."

"Hmmm. As Martha said, maybe next year."


	49. Chapter 49: Sires

Sunday, 18 June 2018

9:15 am

Perching on her sofa, laptop open in front of her, Elsie heard water flowing upstairs and smiled – Charles was at last up. Looking at the time and noting his being 3 for 3 in indulgent mornings-after lie-ins, she sniggered; the man gave his all in every respect.

Charles had found new shaving supplies atop the hand towel left on the counter. Now, freshly showered with towel around his waist, he put them to use in front of the mirror. A few minutes later, he dressed and went downstairs.

"Happy Father's Day, Mr. Carson!" she greeted him with a long kiss threading her fingers through his wet locks. "I see you found your gifts."

"Mmmm. I did, but you know I'm not a father," his voice husky.

"Well, the razor and shaving creme are from Sybbie –"

"What?"

"Sybbie asked Cora to order them for you, something about no more whisker rubs! Cora emailed for my address and Anna collected my post whilst I was at your place. The after-shave and toiletry bag are from me, so you're fully equipped here and at home. John helped with those and I collected all from them this morning."

"Nice. Thank you, love," he kissed her appreciatively.

"You're welcome, Charlie. Even nicer, Anna and John have invited us for Father's Day barbecue at 12:15. I didn't think you'd mind." He agreed nonchalantly. "Oh, but there's a secret to be delivered at 1:30 for which you'll need your mobile."

"I thought we agreed no more secrets."

"We did, but this secret isn't mine."

10:00 am

Unplugging the toaster, Elsie noticed Charles swirl the last tea in his cup and grimace. She walked over and nudged his arm making it clear she wanted to sit on his lap. He moved back from the table to make room. Her arms went around his shoulders again, his around her waist. "Sorry about the tea. I want to buy a French Press for here but need your help picking one out." He frowned. "What? I thought you'd be happy."

He studied her blue eyes, dark lashes and freckles.

"Your bloody independence, Elsie. I've enjoyed having you under my roof, waking up beside you."

"When you aren't sleeping the morning away," she returned his gaze and kissed him. "I thank you for taking good care of me, sharing your days _and_ nights. I just need to get back to work."

"Are you sure you're feeling strong enough?"

"Charlie, I just sit and listen as people share intimate details of their lives."

He studied her again, her mind set. "Just promise me you'll ease in."

"What, like you?" He didn't understand. "Last night, _upstairs_ ," she clarified before shifting her hips eliciting a groan to accompany his blushing realization.

12:15 pm

John welcomed them in and straight through to the back yard, Jack's empty playard and baby monitor sitting in shade. In time, Anna came downstairs to prep in the kitchen. Elsie helped pour lemonades whilst Charles set the table and John grilled. "Elsie's looking well."

"Yeah, she's on the mend. The kidney stone was quite a curveball. But she's determined to go to work tomorrow."

"That's brilliant. She enjoys her work and is good at it." John paused before sharing more, "You have no reason to know this, Mr. Carson, but I'm an alcoholic and alive today because of Elsie's counsel and support years ago. I'm – we're – grateful, and we're glad she's happy and well."

As all were hitting their meal preparation crescendo, the baby monitors inside and out broadcast Jack's crying from the nursery. "Anna, let Charlie get Jack, you saw at the MoonWalk that he's capable." The tired mother agreed and Elsie beckoned Charles who was directed upstairs to retrieve Jack.

"What's the matter with _you_?" Charles lifted the crying lad out of his cot before settling him on his hip and chattering to him. Though tear streaks were still on his soft round cheeks, Jack had calmed when they came downstairs a few minutes later. None knew what magic Charles had performed but Jack's parents were ready to hire him to babysit on the spot. Anna explained the baby's teething and all three losing a fair amount of sleep as a result.

1:30 pm

With the Bateses inside washing up and preparing their pudding and Jack fussing again, Charles picked him up and walked around the yard with him once more. Elsie marveled at her giant-sized baby whisperer as his mobile trilled. 

"Charlie, it's yours; come answer it." He saw that it was an incoming FaceTime from Sybil.

"Sybbie," he smiled as Elsie closed her eyes in confirmation.

"Happy Father's Day, CC!"

"Thank you, Munchkin!"

"Did you open my gifts yet?"

"I did, Elsie had them for me first thing this morning. Thank you, sweetheart. Might you say hello to her also? …Sybbie?" Sybbie wasn't answering because she was distracted by Jack who was playing with Charles's nose. "Sybbie?"

"CC, do you and Elsie _have a baby_?" He chuckled and handed Jack to Elsie explaining the lad's connection.

In time, Charles inquired about Sybbie's concern for whisker rubs as he wouldn't see her again for months at best. "You're wrong CC, daddy and I are coming for a visit because Donk's put in a swimming pool for me and Marigold! Will you and LC come to the pool?"

Looking over at Elsie and imagining her in a swimsuit, he simply answered, "Of course."

John and Anna eventually returned and the four enjoyed ice cream with homemade rhubarb compote. Anna shared news of a developer interested in the neighbourhood and they wouldn't mind moving. Navigating the stairs with Jack was difficult for John and they would be able to afford a larger house elsewhere – something that could play into their desire for more children. All the while, Charles continued to hold and play with Jack who found a new best friend in Charles.

3:30 pm

As Charles and Elsie strolled hand in hand through the neighbourhood park with Igor, Elsie considered several observations of Charles. "Charlie, I've a personal question." He looked over, inviting her to continue. "Do you ever wish you'd gone another way? I gather Alice couldn't have children, but what about adoption or fostering?"

"Ah, the therapist is in," he sighed and squeezed her hand.

"I mean it. Alice wrote you'd have made a wonderful father, and I can see that – in your interactions with George Talbot months ago, Jack and Sybbie, and yes, Becky also."

He stopped and turned to face her, then thoughtfully replied, "I suspect I'd have enjoyed fatherhood very much but when it didn't happen naturally – despite _lots_ of trying – we agreed our family was complete." After a momentary pause he continued, more jovially, "Though I've also had the _great_ joy of spoiling Edith and Sybil years ago – like Sybbie today – and then returning all to their parents!"

"And there are no little Carsonos running around Florence or elsewhere from before Alice, I presume?" she continued as she caressed his cheek.

He gave her a look that made it clear that wasn't funny. "I'm not saying 'no chance' but I think I would have known by now, thank you very much." He noticed that she was contemplative. "Why do you ask?" Despite gazing lovingly up at him, she did not answer. "Oh Gods, you aren't pregnant are you?"

"Don't you wish!"

"I can think of worse situations. Besides the trying part's fun."

"Yes, well, one typically enjoys what one excels at."

"You think?"

"Psychology 101."

"But you didn't reply 'no' to my previous question."

"No!"


	50. Chapter 50: Dog Days of Summer

Friday, 22 June 2018

Yesterday officially started summer and as far as Elsie was feeling after the work week, it was indeed the longest day of the year. There was a sliver of light still in the sky as they tucked into bed at Charles's just before 10:00.

7:30 am  
He woke to find their bodies tangled together in nearly the same position he pleasantly remembered falling asleep: Elsie cuddled up beside him, one leg draped between his and a hand snaked up well under his vest.

She'd looked so tired last night, so he stayed as still as he could, aside from repositioning for a better look down at her.

As much as he liked her fancy nightie, her continued choice to sleep in his navy blue v-neck t-shirt was sexy too; he had already gladly accepted never getting it back. He sealed that decision when she shifted some and the shirt clung to him as much as her, its oversize (on her) neckline revealing her surgically-altered right breast. He'd certainly felt the nipple's absence against his skin multiple times yet darkness and his own gentlemanliness had kept him from seeing it. Uncomfortable with Elsie's current obliviousness, he opted to lift the sheet and cover her up completely and wrap his arms around her tighter. Eventually, unidentifiable noises from the living room pushed him to rise.

Igor was playing with Lady's old cricket bat that Charles had given him last night. That plan to keep him quiet was backfiring now as Igor – so much stronger and livelier than Lady – whipped the soft toy left and right and occasionally tossed it up into the air. "Take it easy, mate, I don't want you waking Elsie." He didn't want to wake her either, to the point where instead of the en suite, he used the loo off the study and dressed there before taking Igor outside.

Over breakfast, when Charles asked what she wanted to do and she answered, deadpan, "It's a lovely day; surely there's a professional cricket match somewhere we could drive to." He was multiple sentences into animatedly explaining the unlikelihood of ticket availability before realizing she was joking with him.

More seriously, she reminded him of her annual mammogram at 12:30. Drs Kuragin and Pamuk's office was affiliated with Royal Brompton Hospital so they agreed to go to her appointment and then stroll up and through the Serpentine Gallery in Kensington Gardens.

12:30 am  
When the nurse called her back, Elsie winked, "This shouldn't take long – mine is usually twice as fast as others'." He recalled her explanation of needing just one side imaged. "I wouldn't blame you for waiting outside; know there's a little courtyard off the canteen. Go down there if you'd like, I'll meet you there."

Shortly, Charles did head downstairs where Elsie found him some 25 minutes later. "Charlie," she called out as she approached him from behind. "It's gorgeous, I'm glad you came down to enjoy it."

He shook his head. She couldn't read his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, but the rest of his face was somber. "No secrets, right?"

"Aye," she wondered where this was leading.

He reached for her hand then, threaded his fingers between hers. It took a moment for him to speak. "It had little to do with the weather, Elsie. Those other women, some obviously battling cancer, at least one looking like she was losing her battle...I couldn't take it. Too many memories and now imagining what you went through..." His thumb stroked the back of her hand. "Selfishly, I am ever more grateful for meeting you, Elsie. I feel like I'm living a charmed life again. Thank you." He leaned down then and planted a lingering kiss on her cheek that prompted her to wrap her arms around him for a squeeze.

"Rest assured, I'm not going anywhere, ye old booby!"

Returning her embrace and breathing in the scent of her coconut shampoo – that he'd started to use – he wondered if that was the best phrase given their reason for the hospital visit. 

As they were returning to the South Kensington Station, Charles asked her if it hurt. She mistakenly assumed he was speaking of today's mammogram and described how the machine must have been designed by a man, and that every woman's wish was for the male version to be invented. Uncomfortably, he clarified he was asking about her surgery and treatments years ago. When she asked what brought on that question now, he acknowledged seeing her breast earlier whilst she slept. She was taken aback, aware that he'd not seen her chest, her scars, before today – deliberately on her part – with appreciation voiced for his gentlemanliness.

7:00 pm

Beryl and Bill had retuned last weekend from their long holiday to Latvia, Estonia and 7 day cruise around the Baltic Sea. The intent of the dinner invitation was to catch up and share trip photos.

Beryl noted right away that Elsie had lost weight since the kidney stone. It was a good thing she'd prepared so much grilled fish and summer veg salad so she could fill Elsie up.

In time, Beryl speculated the two were now sleeping together. Elsie confirmed in a kitchen confidential conversation and Beryl was thrilled. When they were readying to leave, the "Way to go Charlie-boy" Beryl whispered in his ear confused him but Charles didn't ask for an explanation; whatever he'd done, he was glad to have Beryl in his corner.

10:30 pm

Cuddled together in his bed again, Charles broached a topic he'd started to wonder about – the possibility of their own summer holiday getaway – beyond Brighton or the promised overnight at Robert and Cora's. While it all sounded nice, Elsie had two immediate excuses against it – her backlogged responsibilities, and money. It just stirred up an ongoing tiff between them, Charles concerned that she was driving herself too hard, and that he could and would gladly pay for it. Elsie's defenses seemed to be backing down after a deep kiss and mentioning "living a little." She even agreed to let Charles plan _something_ , a quiet get away, something neither had done before – just no cruise – she feared she'd be sick as a dog.


	51. Chapter 51: Teat

Wednesday, 27 June 2018

4:30 pm

"Bugger! Bugger, bugger, bugger!" Elsie hit the End button on her mobile and threw the device at the sofa across her office. Seconds later, she was grateful to have good aim lest it have hit the wall above and broken apart. She slammed closed the ledger on her desk and sat back in her chair for a moment before she stood up and crossed the room, kicking the air a few times along the way. "Bugger!"

Unceremoniously plopping herself down on the sofa, she reached for her mobile, turning it over in her hand. The screen was dark and for a split second she thought she had broken it after all. She flicked the power button and was relieved to see the photo of her and Charles posing in their ALICE IN WONDERLAND props from months ago light up the screen. "Daft man," she said aloud to no one but herself, "If you had any idea what all lay ahead," she sighed as she leaned forward cradling her head in her hands.

Elsie Hughes prided her status as a strong, independent woman but this month was testing her. She spun on her bottom then and stretched out along the length of the sofa, elbows over her head and hands covering her face. "Bugger!"

What had Dr. Kuragin said exactly? She replayed the short conversation a few times in her mind until she was sure she had the sequence and the words right.

She texted Charles asking if he was free this evening.

When he replied a moment later that he was, she looked at the clock and asked him to arrive between 6:45 and 7:00. Again he affirmed he could and asked if he might bring anything. Ice cream was her answer.

6:45 pm

Hoisting the insulated bag in his right hand after ringing the bell, the door hadn't even opened all the way when he cheerily blurted out the line he'd proudly hatched at the market, "Chunky Monkey in hand, and in the flesh, Ms. Hughes."

Draining the last swig of whiskey in her tumbler and reaching for the bag, she stoically replied, "You're not chunky and I want it in my mouth."

"Somehow you made that sound a little risqué," he joked, following her inside.

"And if I did?" she walked straight to the kitchen, her disheveled appearance complete with plaid pyjamas trousers, dressing gown, pinned up wet hair and pale complexion grabbing his attention. She tore off the lid and shoveled a large spoonful straight from container to mouth, raising his eyebrows.

"Elsie, what's wrong?"

She swallowed before answering, "Helluva month, Charlie. Come in and I'll tell you the latest," she shuffled to the parlour, ice cream in one hand, tumbler in the other.

Sitting down with her feet on the sofa and pouring another two fingers of whiskey, Charles sat down beside her, concerned. As she stared across the room at the muted images on the telly, she began, "Dr. Kuragin phoned me this afternoon, Charlie."

"Oh?" he tensed.

"Years ago he told me that his nurses place most follow up calls to patients, but if it's important, he will call."

"Oh, Elsie –"

"It's NOT cancer…he assured me of that. Rather, it appears my left implant has begun to leak. The only course of action is to replace it - them - the other one is probably not far behind."

"Is the leak dangerous?"

"Not per see, it's just saline, like an ordinary IV."

"Then why the sorry state? Am I missing something?"

She swallowed another spoonful before licking the back of the spoon, "I'm getting on, Mr. Carson. In less than three weeks I've been diagnosed with varicose veins, crippled with the debilitating pain of a kidney stone, had a bloody procedure to blast the thing to bits, lost two weeks' salary in dealing with it all, and now been told I need to have reconstructive breast surgery for the second time in my life. That all together is the bloody reason for my so called sorry state, Charlie."

"And am I to gather that whiskey and ice cream are going to pull you through?"

"They're worth a try."

"What about your boyfriend?"

"What about him?"

"For starters, can he have a taste?"

"Of what?"

He rolled his eyes and then pointed at the ice cream container. She scooped a tiny spoonful out and held it out to him; he wrapped his lips around the bowl of the spoon, savoring the chocolate and banana flavors.

"Your boyfriend might also be of assistance to help you through. When does the surgery need to happen?"

"More like when does Dr. Kuragin have availability. In three months. By then I will surely be so lopsided, my left side will look like a smoothing iron was run over me."

"I am sure you'll still look beautiful, Elsie Hughes."

"Charlie, I don't feel beautiful even now knowing what's coming."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," he said inching closer and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "You are beautiful," and then he planted a single, lingering kiss on her lips, before adding, "And you taste good too!"


	52. Chapter 52: Doggy Paddle

Friday, 6 July 2018

11:15 am

"Elsie, love, what have I told you about worrying that lower lip?"

She stopped nibbling then and shifted her attention from the passing Hampshire countryside to Charles, beside her at the wheel, "Something about a turn on?"

"Precisely, and since I need to soon navigate our _turn off_ , I'm asking you to stop that so we'll be on time, lest we may _never_ get there."

"Yes, Mr. By-the-book Precision."

"Not just me, anywhere past 11:30 arrival and we'll have to answer to a very upset munchkin."

"She adores you – you'll be fine _whenever_ we arrive."

"Yes, but you might be a different story." He'd exited the M3 by then and was steering them southwest on the smaller A303.

Elsie sighed mightily, "Did you have to phrase it like that, Charlie? That's the reason I'm worrying my lip."

"Sorry?"

"Her – Sybbie – all of them; meeting your honourary family in one fell swoop – in a swimsuit with a deflating breast. I'm a nervous wreck at the prospect."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Need I remind you, you've already met Cora and Maggie and I have every confidence you will charm them _all_ in a heartbeat – _especially_ Sybbie."

Now she rolled her eyes, "Yes, I've met them – thanks to an intervention scripted by the first wife. I'm your bloody rebound."

"Oh, you're so much more than that, so much." His voice trailed off as he reached over and raised her hand to his lips. "They'll love you, because _I_ love you."

Elsie shifted in the seat again, physically uncomfortable too. "Two hands on the wheel, Mr. Carson."

A few minutes later those hands held their respective luggage he'd pulled from the boot. Elsie's attention was split between fastening the leash onto Igor's collar and the gorgeous, multi-hued English garden and sizeable Tudor he'd parked in front of. "Charlie, one last time, you're sure about bringing Igor?"

"Not a doubt in my –"

"Elsie! Charles, you've made it! Welcome to Hampshire! How was your journey?" Casual yet elegant in white capris and a flowing red tunic, Cora Grantham crossed her pea gravel driveway to greet them, Elsie first with a welcoming hand that Cora did not release even when she embraced Charles with the other and traded kisses on cheeks. "What may I carry inside?"

Short of taking Igor's leash there was nothing more to lend a hand with and so she led them inside explaining Tom had left a few short minutes ago to pick up supplies, Robert and Sybbie were getting dressed after a morning in the new pool.

"On!" exclaimed a tanned Robert jogging toward them in blue and white striped seersucker shorts and pink polo shirt. Charles extended his hand in greeting but Robert merely slapped him on the back, grinning ear to ear as he strode past. "Ms. Elsie Hughes, I can't begin to express what a pleasure it is to meet you – finally! Welcome to our home!"

"Thank you, Robert, I feel most welcome."

"And you are, absolutely. On, you failed to communicate how absolutely radiant and beautiful Elsie is, truly."

"Robert, I'm sure our guests would like to freshen up before luncheon."

"Of course, how rude of me. I'm just so happy to see them!" Igor barked, "Oh, and Igor, welcome to you too!" Robert embraced Charles then, in a not so subtle attempt to whisper in his ear, "You're sharing a room, yes?" Elsie hid her smile, overhearing every word. Charles just nodded and then he turned round at the sound of a little voice.

"CC."

Sybbie held onto the bannister, dressed in a bright yellow sundress and matching Crocs, her wet hair brushed back off her forehead, a shy grin on her face. "Hello, sweetheart." Charles knelt down on one knee and beckoned her over. When Sybbie was close enough to wrap his arms around, all yellow disappeared; only the giggle Sybbie emitted when he nuzzled his nose behind her ear revealed her. Charles straightened up then, and looked up to Elsie with a glint in his eye. Reaching for Elsie's free hand then, and threading his fingers between hers, he gently pulled her nearer. "Sybbie, dear, you've spoken with her on FaceTime, but this is Elsie. At last, I'm together with my two most special lasses." Charles kissed Sybbie on the cheek before standing up and kissing Elsie too.

"Hi." Unusually, Sybbie was playing shy.

"Hello petal. My, you're a little lady! This is Igor. He's not nearly as well-mannered as you, but you needn't be afraid of him."

"I'm not afraid, but what's that?" All four adults looked down at where Sybbie was pointing.

"Oh, Igor!" Elsie moaned and covered her face.

Quick-thinking Cora answered, "That's his red rocket, Sybbie. I think it means he's happy to meet you – or he smells Isis.. Now, why don't you show Elsie and CC to the guest room, please?"

Luncheon was poolside, under the shade of a brolly with Sybbie a charming chatterbox. She sat between Charles and Tom and shared her excitement about their overnight Wednesday flight including watching ISLE OF DOGS yet disappointment at missing fireworks in Boston. At that mention, Cora explained tonight's barbecue would be a delayed celebration complete with American classics. And Tom piped in that he'd purchased sparklers for them all. Plate cleaned, Sybbie was anxious to return to the pool. When Cora reminded her that she needed to wait 30 minutes, Charles set the timer on his mobile. Cora also noted that Sybbie's hair was a tangled mess that would only get worse without any taming. As she stood up to clear the table, Cora suggested that Tom plait Sybbie's hair. "Not daddy. Elsie, would _you,_ _please_?"

Charles delighted in Sybbie's unprompted request, Elsie too. And so after retrieving her hairbrush upstairs and explaining what she wanted, Elsie set to work. Whilst the others went inside, Charles remained, pleased as punch to watch his two very special lasses bonding.

With Charles's timer at five minutes and Elsie finished plaiting, Sybbie dashed inside to put her swimsuit on – after giving Elsie a hug in thanks for her work that was praised by all the adults.

Cora intended to spend the next chunk of time in the kitchen, in consideration of dinner preparations and her fair skin but encouraged the others to change and reminded Tom to make sure Sybbie had plenty of sunscreen on.

Elsie and Charles entered the downstairs guest suite and the door had no sooner shut than Charles swept Elsie up in his arms and spun her around surprising her. "What's that for, Mr. Carson?"

"For you being you. I told you Sybbie would adore you."

"I don't remember it coming out quite like that, but I'll take it." She smiled down on him from her most unfamiliar bird's eye vantage point and combed through his salt and pepper locks with both her hands before they eagerly locked lips. As his wandered along her jawline and eventually made their way to her left ear, she let out a soft moan. "Mr. Carson, I'm glad Sybbie isn't the only one you nuzzle behind the ear. I was a little jealous earlier." He smiled then and put her down. "Get into your trunks, and I'll help put sunscreen on your chest and back."

"Mmm, do I get to return the favour?"

"Maybe, though I'm not ready to get in the water myself."

Pouting his lips, he gestured to the left side of her chest. "It wouldn't be about _that_ , would it? Because I have yet to notice any…lopsidedness."

"I don't know if you're kind or blind, Charlie, but I've noticed my bras are fitting differently. But no, that's not it. I'm on holiday with my boyfriend and his loved ones at a beautiful country estate and I just want to sit in the sun lounger and read a romance novel for a while."

"Well, in light of my loved ones, please don't impersonate Martha."

"Huh?"

"Sunbathe in the nude."

"You remember that?"

"How could I forget?"

"Good point. Anyway, get your trunks on."

As Elsie unpacked her valise then hung her things in the wardrobe, Charles stripped right there in the bedroom. Turning back around she remarked, "My goodness, Mr. Carson, the men in my life come to the country and suddenly abandon _all_ modesty."

He had one leg through his trunks, the other foot suspended in air on it's way in. He looked down at himself then and with a confused look on his face stated, "But, I'm not sporting –"

"So I see. Just…carry on." He pulled his blue trunks all the way up to his waist then and tied the drawstring.

She walked over, tube of sunscreen in her hand. "Sorry," he muttered, "I've gotten comfortable around you."

"Clearly." He shuddered then. Elsie wasn't sure if it was from the cold sunscreen that she pressed to his chest with her left hand, or the tucking of the drawstring into his waistband that she did with her right. "And I'm comfortable with you too." She evenly spread the sunscreen over his chest and belly then, before squirting more in his hands to cover his face and arms as she walked around to apply to his back. She finished with a flirtatious fluffing of the little tuft of hair that disappeared under the back of his waistband. "Okay, finish your legs whilst I change into my suit. I'll let you do my back." Charles lost all track of his sunscreen application then as Elsie shed all her clothes in front of him before slipping into her graphic print one-piece.

She held the top against her chest as Charles covered her back and shoulders with the SPF 50. "Are you sure you don't need any help with your front, Elsie?"

"Not right now, maybe later," she winked, earning a broad smile in return. Acknowledging the high-pitched "CC!" they could both hear from the veranda, she nodded, "You best go on out, I'll join you in a few."

She was true to her word, though she came out in her suit and sarong skirt, spreading a towel out on one of the loungers. "Aren't you coming in, Elsie?"

"Later, petal. For now, it's just you swimming with the men." Indeed, Sybbie in her inflatable wings delighted in paddling amongst the attentive Robert, Tom, and Charles. In time, Cora shooed them all out when she confirmed Sybbie's fingertips were all wrinkly. Whilst Tom and Sybbie went inside for drinks, and Robert took the dogs for a walk, Charles simply swam over to the deep end near Elsie and hoisted himself onto the edge.

Brushing his wet hair back with his hand, he asked hopefully, "Enjoying yourself, love?"

She put the book aside and swiveled around putting her feet on the concrete, "Yes, this is divine."

"Good. By the way, you look amazing." He was standing near her now, dripping.

"And you're casting shadows."

"Sorry," as he stepped back.

"Mmm, not that," and she pointed to his chest and giggled. He groaned, realizing that his moobs were indeed casting shadows. He reached down then and pulled her up to standing. "Charlie, what if my sarong gets wet?"

"If it gets wet, we'll dry it off." He placed both his cool, wet hands against her warm ears and stepped forward for a deep, eyes-closed kiss. With that, her front was completely pressed against his, wetting sarong and suit.

As he released her then, Elsie opened her eyes and lifted her sunglasses, looking down at herself as he grinned triumphantly. " _If…if_ it gets wet, Mr. Carson? I'll just have to take it off." And with that, she untied the sarong, dropped it onto the lounger and pushed him aside to clear a path to the pool as she generated a running start before diving in, bottom in the air. He waggled his eyebrows then and laughed deeply. As she surfaced, Charles too ran to the edge before cannonballing into the pool near Elsie.

10:45 pm

As she curled against his sun-burnt legs, under the crisp white sheet, he whimpered. As she settled, he asked, "Good day in Hampshire?"

She looked up at him, moonlight catching his eyes. "Great day in Hampshire, swimming with my man. There's just one thing I don't understand." He looked down, encouraging her to continue. "Why in the world does Sybbie address Robert as 'Donk'?"


	53. Chapter 53: Chew

Sunday, 8 July 2018

5:45 am

"Glad I'm not the only one who worries a lip." She startled him in his chosen sun lounger facing east, bare feet anchoring his legs into a makeshift easel for the paper tablet he'd been focusing on. "Why are you up so early?" she yawned.

Checking his lip for blood, he explained, "Chewing on something Ham shared after you all went to bed."

She was behind him now, bent forward with her hands burrowing into his fleece-covered chest, "Oh Lord," kissing his temple, "I'm afraid to ask."

Afraid because of what she'd learned all had been speculated about yesterday whilst she, Cora and Maggie had innocently gone into town for luncheon and window-shopping as the men's conversation had turned to organizing a Cricket match on the grounds of Highclere Castle – for charity.

The Abbey had actually come up at the ladies luncheon too with Cora asking Elsie if she'd like to swing by for a tour. Elsie declined for now; she was quite hopeful of Charles sharing firsthand what all his preservation efforts had been decades ago. And she knew Beryl wanted to join too given her fondness for ITV's DOWNTON ABBEY series.

"I was well asleep before you crawled in but I noticed your tossing all night."

"Sorry to disturb your slumber, love."

"It's chilly out here; come back to bed?"

"No, it's wonderful light. Great for sketching."

"I'm no artist, Charlie, but those look like ledgers more than sketches."

He frowned then, flipped back a few pages showing her his sketch of the sunrise that reduced the flowers in the foreground to silhouettes. "Here."

"You're good Charlie, it's lovely," she yawned again.

"Thanks."

"But you're also sleep-deprived. Care to share what Robert bent your ear about?"

"Have a seat," he gestured toward the lounger next to him but she instead nudged him to share his lounger and cuddled against him.

"Go on."

"We spoke more about the Cricket idea. It would be traditional – classic Cricket Whites, not the coloured uniforms common today."

"So, your fondness extends beyond being a spectator?"

"Indeed, though you'll recall we have a couple of larger problems: no designated charity and not enough players. I'm not settled on the charity yet, but do you think we could lure some of the blokes from London down? Like Bill Mason, Joe Molesley, whomever Isobel picks – Richard, hopefully?"

"Well, find the right charity and make it a weekend with the wives/ girlfriends. Oh, maybe tours of the Abbey for them… with enough notice, you'd find some takers."

"I'm glad you think so."

"Definitely better than recreating the Brighton to Hampshire biathlon you and Robert had done years ago."

"You never know, we might do that again too, but after." She just rolled her eyes. Men.

"What else, Charlie?"

"Is this a pseudo counseling session?" he joked.

"Whatever it takes to get back to bed," she squeezed his side then.

"Ham needs to have ulcer surgery." She sat up then, alert and concerned. "It's evidently routine but it needs to be whilst Sybbie is here on holiday, before Sybil arrives." They'd learned yesterday of the reason for the piecemeal Branson family holiday. Tom was actually interviewing for a job in London. He was going to ride back with them later in the day and stay at Rosamund's though Charles offered up his flat until Tom was to fly back on Wednesday. If all went well with Tom's interviews, when Sybil arrived she would actually be on a house-hunting mission. All this they were asked to keep quite from Sybbie, just in case the interviews didn't go well.

"Ham is going to be laid up for a few days and between taking care of him and checking in on Maggie, he's concerned it might be too much for Cora to also take care of Sybbie. He was giving me the head's up that Tom is going to ask _me_ to watch Sybbie for four or five days."

"Oh, time to step up as the Godfather."

"Yes, and now you know why I was tossing and turning through the night, and writing lists this morning."

"What? You aren't thinking of saying 'no.'"

"I am."

"Charlie, no, do it. It would be good for you. Sybbie's not an infant. You'll be fine."

"But what would I do to entertain her?"

"Seriously? You live in central London. Take her sightseeing, ride double-decker buses, go to the Zoo, your favourite bakeries, take her to your pool, or a park, or or or...there are endless possibilities."

"I didn't hear mention of take her to my favorite Scottish lass's."

"She does like Igor for some mind-boggling reason. Of course you should come over, I'll undoubtedly be working but I'll help however I can."

"What about sleeping over?"

"Sybbie showed us to our room on Friday morning, Charlie. She knows we're together, but ask Tom what he and Sybil are comfortable with and adhere to that – or negotiate! Just say 'yes' when he asks."

"I love having my own personal therapist."

"You should."

2:40 pm

They'd been on the road to London for just ten minutes when Tom nervously broached the subject. "Mr. Carson, Mrs. Carson – oops, sorry."

Elsie and Charles made eye contact via the rearview mirror and smiled; the slip up sounded nice. Tom outlined his proposed ask and clarified, "Take all the time you need, I'm not asking anyone else."

Charles's joyful and proud answer pleased Elsie, "Of course I'll babysit for you; I thought you'd never ask."


	54. Chapter 54: Heartworm

Wednesday, 11 July 2018

5:25 pm

Elsie looked up when she heard the knock and stood up to see whom it was. As she turned the corner and caught the first glimpse of the office door she saw beyond the glass a large, tanned hand extending out from an off-white sleeve with four brown buttons just above the cuff. Importantly, said hand was gently waving a bag of blue candy floss up and down. "Charlie!" she smiled.

"Hello handsome," she said it without even thinking as she opened the door and he brought the floss to a standstill over his heart. She quickly forgot about the floss though as he looked especially handsome and summery tonight in an off-white linen two piece suit she hadn't seen before. Under the unbuttoned jacket was a nicely contrasting denim button down; above it all, a fresh haircut. "Mr. Carson, look at you! To what do I owe this honour?"

"Today is your quarter birthday and you will recall that I believe in celebrating these mini milestones. Therefore, turn off the computer and grab your purse because we're going out to have some fun. By the way, you look lovely, Elsie," he leaned in with a slow kiss.

"Oh, wow," she thought aloud as their lips separated. He was a good kisser, she'd learned that over the last four months, though this one made her insides tingly. "Okay," she licked her lips instinctively, "This is a pleasant surprise. A quick stop home to walk Igor -"

"Unnecessary, in fact. Whilst she was cutting my hair earlier, I asked Anna if she or John would be sure to walk him when they returned home and she has agreed. Of course, we shall expect to return a favour down the road, but for now, we are all set," he waggled his eyebrows.

"Delightful, Mr. Carson. So what do you have planned - or is it going to be a surprise until the very last minute as I recall our spin on the Eye was? Oh my, has that really been three months ago already?"

"It has been, but in answer to your first question, we are going dancing!"

Dancing turned out to be outdoor line dancing and a great deal of fun for the both of them as they, along with the others, were coached through the steps by the instructors on a makeshift dance floor. They were able to laugh at one another's missteps, of which it seemed there were many and yet they were applauded by many fellow dancers. It helped that they looked so cute together in their coincidentally coordinated outfits including a denim dress for her and their camel colour shoes.

8:45 pm

Plates cleaned of their roast chicken and veg takeaway, Charles had just refilled his wine glass when Elsie returned to her patio barefoot with her bag of candy floss in hand. "You're going to eat that now?"

"Aye, I can't wait, Charlie, it's been tempting me all evening."

"Well, before your fingers get all sticky, I have a small something for your quarter birthday present, Elsie." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small blue envelope and slid it across the table to a confused Elsie. "Open it."

She did then, slowly and carefully revealing a keyring with a fob and key on it. Still confused, she looked to him expecting an explanation.

He cleared his throat. "Elsie, it occurred to me after offering Tom my flat a few days ago that I haven't been as generous with you as him even though you've wormed your way into my heart -"

"Charlie, you have -"

"Elsie, love, please, let me finish. Had Tom agreed to stay there, he would have had free run of the place, come and go as he pleased. I want you to have those same privileges. Your name is now on the building's register as having these keys and for you to be allowed up any time. I know you value your independence and am not implying to take any of that away, but I like having you there. I like providing for you, protecting you, falling asleep with you in my arms and waking beside you. I know you associate the colour blue with home for Scotland, thus the blue envelope for I want you to think of my flat as your second home. Please, I hope you'll keep these and know that you Elsie - and yes, you Igor, and Becky - are welcome any time."

He looked at her, hopeful she would say yes. She blinked back a tear and nodded her acceptance, whispering, "Thank you, Charlie."

There wasn't any more that needed to be said, he was so pleased by her answer, and yet as she turned the key over in her fingers he stood up and extended his hand as the first few bars of MY GIRL came from her phone. "Dance with me?" Standing then, she walked into his waiting arms where they slow danced under the moonlight.

9:55 pm

Hair mussed, limbs tangled, bodies sated, Elsie was thinking deeply for the first time in the last hour plus as Charles stroked his index finger back and forth across her bare bicep. "Charlie?"

"Hmmm?"

"You've had two quarter birthdays since we've met and I don't know what you did on either of them for the first time or first time since childhood. Those are the parameters, yes?"

"Correct. Well, Feb 19 was far from glamorous but it was the first time I showered with a dog in my arms - to rinse our bodies of her vomit. May 19 I watched a Royal Wedding from New York with my favourite princess."

"And that princess will be here soon, and later your actual birthday."

"I can hardly wait for either."


	55. Chapter 55: Shepherd

Monday, 23 July 2018

9:53 am

"CC, what are you smiling about?"

The question brought him back to the present and realizing how big his grin was. He couldn't lie to the lass, yet he most certainly couldn't tell her precisely _why_ he was smiling. "Erm, Elsie," he answered, hoping that would placate the precocious little one seated between him and the train window.

Sybbie smiled, "You like her."

"I do."

"Me too." She turned her attention back to the train interior scene she was drawing.

The straightforwardness of Sybbie's declaration throttled him in the very best of ways; it just took him a moment to respond. When he did, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head before acknowledging, "Sybbie, that makes me so _very_ happy."

She continued to draw, but asked, "When will we see her – and Igor?"

He chuckled at her dual interest. "I'm not certain, but you will see Elsie – and Igor – before the week is out."

"Why didn't she come to Hampshire with you this morning?"

"Elsie has to work, sweetheart."

"Work?"

He marveled that it was still a bit of a foreign concept to a Grantham, even in the 21st century. "I should rephrase. Elsie _chooses_ to work – like mummy and daddy. You know how mummy helps people who are dying and their families? Elsie talks with people who need help and she tries to make them feel good." He shifted in his seat then, recalling how, though there wasn't much in the way of talking, Elsie certainly helped him feel good, both last night when they turned in and this morning when she unexpectedly joined him in the shower. It took him back to his grinning ways, but Gods, it really was likely to be a long week if Sybbie's presence meant they would not be spending nights together.

"You're doing it again, CC!"

He swiped his hand in front of his face and made his grin disappear as if by magic, "I'm sorry, munchkin. Let's focus on your drawing."

Charles had taken an early train to Whitchurch where Robert, Cora and Sybbie had met him at the station. It was a brief layover for Charles, but more than enough time to relay the idea he'd hatched of a charity for the Cricket match, inspiration having found him as he read the newspaper on the outbound train. His idea was applauded yet Charles told Sybbie it was, for now, to remain a secret – from Elsie. On top of the fact that she was now considered old enough to pay Charles a visit on her own, the secret keeping was one of many thrills unfolding for Sybbie. She was none the wiser, however, that "Donk" was in fact heading straight to the hospital for ulcer surgery.

By the time they'd arrived at Waterloo Station, Sybbie had Charles's phone number memorized – in case of emergency – as well, the number was written on the temporary "tattoo" Cora had adhered to Sybbie's forearm. Regardless of those efforts, Charles had cautioned Sybbie of the fast-pace and crowdedness of London and led her hand-in-hand through the station and beyond. He'd pointed to the tall buildings on the Thames that included South Bank Tower where they were headed, dropping Sybbie's chin. When she said she was up for the walk, Charles heard Elsie's voice reminding him the lass's strides being a small fraction of his own. And so he consciously walked slower than usual.

In time, they made it to Charles's flat and he oriented Sybbie to the different rooms, including the study where she would be sleeping. As for his own sleeping quarters, realizing for the first time the downside of not having doors, he described a sort of invisible fence not to be crossed without permission. They put away her things and Charles excused himself to prepare a snack for them and encouraged her to wash hands. Before opening the refrigerator, he texted Elsie.

 _Made it!_

 _Brilliant!_

 _Off to Regent's Park next._

 _Oh Lord, don't tell me you're taking her to Lord's!_

 _No – the Zoo, thank you very much. I'm saving Cricket for another day! (Kidding)_

 _Enjoy sweetheart! Must run – talk to you this evening!_

Glasses of milk poured and fruit and cheese plated, he was surprised Sybbie hand't yet reappeared and so he returned to peek in. "Sybbie?" he inquired as he approached the study door. Only his heart skipped a beat when he spotted her. Mesmerized by the view of London from 30 floors up, Sybbie had climbed up on the table next to the floor-to-ceiling glass. "Oh, sweetheart!" He dashed in and gently lifted her down. "I love you to pieces, but please don't climb up on that or anything else near the windows."

"But –"

"Sorry, that's also a non-negotiable. Somewhere else, perhaps, but not in this room, not in this flat. Do you understand?" By the sternness in his voice, she did.

Their visit to the Zoo was a huge hit. Charles didn't recall having visited there since Sybil and Edith were young and whilst the animals and their habitats were impressive, it was of course Sybbie who made his day. She embraced the challenge he'd thrown out of documenting her entire time in London in original drawings, thus her mini rucksack carried pencils and paper tablet.

It was hard to draw in the Tube station so Sybbie had Charles take a photo and worked from it later as they sat at a teashop enjoying pudding. It might have been a little over indulgent as Sybbie later had little appetite for supper.

8:45 pm

He had poured himself a glass of red wine and settled into the lounge chair in his bedroom after reading a story in Sybbie's room. He dialed Elsie who, anxious to hear from him answered on the second ring.

"Done shepherding for the day, Mr. Carson?"

"Thank God, yes. I'm exhausted."

She giggled, "You've had a long day beginning with –"

"Yes, yes, let's not go there. Just sitting here looking at the bed leaves me missing you terribly."

"How's Sybbie?"

"We've had a wonderful day. The Zoo has some magnificent animals and yet she was most taken with the lemurs."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I think they look like oversize rats with striped tails and funny faces."

"Oh. Why'd she like them so?"

"She said they look like Igor. She asked on you too multiple times."

"That's sweet. And now?"

"All tucked into the sofa and hopefully fast asleep."

"She's not on the Murphy Bed?"

"No, she was fearful she'd be folded up in it. So I laid a sheet out on the sofa and added pillow and blanket and she seemed comfortable."

"Speaking of sheets, I stripped the sheets after you left this morning. You should transfer them to the dryer."

"Already noticed, already done. Thank you, love."

"And tomorrow?"

"History and culture!"

"If you say 'site of the former Crystal Palace' I'm going to give you a spanking!"

He chuckled then. "Not in our itinerary, but I'm not opposed to a spanking!"


	56. Chapter 56: Blues Clues by Elsie Hughes

Tuesday, 24 July 2018

Charles had filled this day's plans with visits to many of the expected treasures that London offers beginning at Big Ben, Parliament and Westminster Abbey then proceeding to Buckingham Palace to watch the Changing of the Guard. In recognition of the heat and her short legs, Charles did something he'd never done before in all his years in London: purchased Hop-On Hop-Off double-decker bus tickets. This way, they were able to see other favourites in the capitol city without tiring out Sybbie - or so he thought.

Whilst she giggled at the name Piccadilly Circus, Sybbie was disappointed to not see elephants and clowns there. Lunch in the theatre district was filled with visual chaos including words on signs and menus she wasn't always able to read - and some Charles was glad she couldn't. Later and further east, the line into St. Paul's was daunting but Charles had Sybbie convinced it was worth it. In her estimation, it was not as evidenced by the speed with which she executed that interior drawing in her sketchbook. Finally, at the Tower of London, Charles gauged that she had had enough sightseeing as she had a meltdown complaining that the so-called "tower" was not really a tower – not compared to his South Bank Tower.

They were not so far from home as he pointed out on a map, yet another thing Sybbie had trouble reading. Though he encouraged her that they should walk home Sybbie was done for, to the point where Charles had to carry her across the Blackfriars Bridge and the remaining steps home before tucking her in for a nap straightaway.

Whilst Sybbie napped, Charles studied his list of additional destinations thinking through museums or such with evening hours.

4:20 pm

Sybbie woke from her nap asking if they could read books or watch cartoons together; Charles suggested an alternative - putting the finishing touches on the day's drawings. Although she retrieved her drawing supplies, he noted that she did so with reluctance. When he suggested places they might go tonight, she was indifferent. When he asked if she would like pizza for supper, she shrugged her shoulders and continued to draw. He put his hand on her forehead, testing for a temperature. He'd planned to begin pre-heating his pizza stone but paused to privately place a phone call to Elsie.

"Oh good, you're there. I need help."

"How do you mean?"

"Sybbie. I've the only child in the western world who isn't interested in pizza."

"Oh, that's not good. How's the rest of the day been?"

He proceeded to explain, himself a bit despondent now too.

"Has she a fever? Maybe she's feeling unwell."

"Oh, she's feeling unwell alright, but no fever. Might you come over?"

Elsie looked at her watch. "I have a 4:30 and need to let the dog out. I suppose I can be there a little after six."

"I will have the green olives and banana peppers waiting. And Elsie - thank you!"

6:15 pm

"I'm here!" Elsie called out cheerfully as she opened the door. She and Charles were still adjusting to her having her own key and building clearance, but it felt right. "Hi, any change?" She squeezed him round his middle as she greeted him. He shook his head. "Where is she?" He gestured to the study. "Let me speak with her."

"Shall I join you?"

"No, get one of those pizzas in the oven and set the table for three. Even if she won't eat, I'm starving."

Elsie remained in the study some 15 minutes alone with Sybbie. When she exited, she shut the door behind her. An anxious Charles strode over, dismay written all over. "She's not coming out? What do we do? Call Sybil? What time is it in Boston? Or Cora - do we call Cora?"

She walked up to him and patted his chest, smiling. "Relax, Mr. Carson, all you need to do is get your trunks on."

"What?"

"Sybbie's changing into her swimsuit and you'll need to as well because after supper and clean up, you're going swimming downstairs."

"I don't understand."

She rolled her eyes, what was there not to understand? Nonetheless, she gestured her freestyle stroke. He still didn't follow. "Charlie, she wants to go swimming. With you."

"But why? She's undoubtedly been swimming everyday in Hampshire."

"Yes, but she's six and that's what six year olds want to do when they have the chance. And, she just wants to have fun with YOU! That's what this visit is all about for her - she wants to play and instead you're making her work and learn."

"That's not so bad, she can go to Oxford some day."

"Again, she's six; let her be six and weave that learning into play if you must. And if you're going to insist she draw, do so alongside her, ye daft man!"

"CC, is the pizza ready? Elsie says I need to eat at least two pieces and the more I do the less buoyant I will be. What's buoyant?" Sybbie was her usual gregarious self again, charging toward Charles as she pepper him with more than she'd spoken all afternoon. Charles was relieved as he picked her up in his arms.

"That is what I am sweetheart - eyebrows, nose and cork! I guess I best eat a lot of pizza too!" He kissed Sybbie's temple then and mouthed "thank you" to Elsie.

The pool turned out to be a better idea than Charles could imagine, in part because they weren't the only ones there. George and Mary Talbot – whom he hadn't seen in weeks – were there, and she was sporting a little baby bump!

Whilst Mary and Elsie stayed on the pool deck, Charles romped in the pool with the children who both delighted in his company.

Oh the lift ride afterward, Sybbie asked Charles and Elsie if they had any brothers or sisters. "I have one younger sister named Becky. Why do you ask, Sybbie?"

"Because I want one."


	57. Chapter 57: Play

Wednesday, 25 July 2018

12:15 am

No longer at sixes and sevens after Elsie's intervention but keen on delivering a wonderful day by a five year old's standards, Charles pored over ideas into the wee hours. Under the premise of finding Igor's favourite things, they would be going on a play-filled scavenger hunt around the city, eventually leading to the ultimate treasures: Elsie and Igor!

Facilitating all would be Charles's legs. He had not divested of Lady's bike trailer; though Igor had yet to ride in it, the premise was it was also one of Igor's favourite things. And Sybbie could fit inside.

Reading the first clue this morning, Sybbie relished gathering up the necessary supplies described in "Igor's" note: snacks and water bottles; his and hers sketching supplies; swim wings, goggles, spare knickers and towel for her; breadcrumbs for birds and sunscreen. As a sign of her enthusiasm, Sybbie hurried Charles along with breakfast to get them out the door.

More than anything, the day was filled with play and playgrounds. They first crossed Lambeth Bridge and went straight to the Horseferry Playground. Next, St James Park. Whilst they returned to Buckingham Palace, it was to search (unsuccessfully) for any of the Queen's Corgis.

From there, Igor sent them through to the Diana Memorial Playground in Kensington Gardens with its teepees, pirate ship, giant musical instruments, and hiding spots in the plantings. Next, Charles pedaled through Paddington where Sybbie sweetly asked more than one Bobby, "Where's the bear?"

A picnic lunch picked up at Hampstead Hearth was enjoyed inside Hampstead Heath where they tossed sticks in the water pretending that Igor was fetching them. East of there, in Hackney, they admired the wildflower meadow at London Fields, intentionally a little sedate, for next up was Tumbling Bay playground at the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park with its rock pools, sand pits, treehouses and wobbly bridges. And then it was straight south through Isle of Dogs and across the Thames on to Brockwell Park where Charles allowed a gleeful Sybbie to frolic in the paddling pool's fountains confident she would dry off afterward as they both took in the Park's infamous miniature railway.

4:45 pm

At the office, Elsie was awaiting their arrival when Sybbie knocked. No sooner had Elsie opened the door than Sybbie was hugging her joyfully explaining in one breath, "Today was the best day ever!" and asking where Igor was with the second. It was then that Elsie noticed Charles standing awkwardly. "Charlie, are you okay?"

"Fine, just too old for this. Hello, love," he hobbled over and kissed her.

"Mmmmm, or too ambitious. Never do anything by halves, do you, Mr. Carson?"

"Never!" Aided by her or Charles's drawings sketched throughout, Sybbie enthusiastically recapped their day as Charles nursed a glass of water. Elsie could tell both took so much from this day together yet it was clear they would not be eating out as she had supposed. So once takeaway food was decided upon and ordered, Elsie suggested Charles ride ahead to her place to shower whilst she and Sybbie walked their food home.

5:40 pm

When Charles came downstairs wearing clean clothes, perceptive Sybbie noticed. Charles acknowledged he sometimes spent the night at Elsie's and therefore kept clothes there, as Elsie did at his place. "May we spend the night, please?" she pleaded.

In the end, that is exactly what they did since after dinner, Charles fell asleep on the sofa between his lasses 3/4ths of the way through London-based 101 DALMATIANS. Elsie, concerned he was not alert enough to ride home safely, sent him upstairs to bed and later helped Sybbie settle in her guest room, with Igor beside her. Elsie thought silently, "You can have the dog, Sybbie. I much prefer my bedmate!"

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: THANK YOU, loyal reviewers! It's a thrill to hear from you, always! It's also a thrill to hear feedback from anyone...so everyone, please know your two cents are welcomed whether you review regularly, haven't ever or are somewhere in between!


	58. Chapter 58: Domesticated Animal

Thursday, 26 July 2018

7:30 am

"Away with the fairies are you?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around her middle from behind.

"Charlie, you startled me!"

"Sorry, you didn't hear me come down. What's drawn your focus so intently?" She pointed at the sketchbook in front of her; she'd been flipping through Sybbie's drawings.

"She has real talent. Even at 11 times as old, I can't draw that well." He kissed her below the ear then, arms still wrapped around her.

"I'm confident you could do it if you put your mind to it. Tis only a matter of drawing what you see or imagine, no right or wrong."

"Some other time, Mr. Carson. I need to be leaving for the office soon." She spun around in his arms to face him whilst reaching up and fingering a few hairs that peeked out the neckline of his vest. "And you, what's in store for you two today?"

"There's a puppet show we may attend but that's not until 10 and Sybbie had said something about wanting to have a tea party," he rolled his eyes.

"Aww, wish I could attend that. Will you be drinking tea or will you be the butler serving it?" she chuckled.

"My luck, probably the butler."

"I can see that would suit you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sybbie has you wrapped around her little finger already, I'm sure you'd be 'Yes, m'Lady, of course, m'Lady.' What else?"

He wrinkled his lips and brow then. "She said we were out of biscuits and should bake some for the tea party."

"And you said, 'Of course, m'Lady,' didn't you?" He nodded sheepishly. She leaned up and kissed him then. "Tea and homemade biscuits? It sounds like the party of the season, Charlie! Or maybe I should call you Charles?"

"Cheeky, Elspeth!"

They proceeded to loosely discuss plans for the evening, and importantly, for Friday when they were due to drive Sybbie back to Hampshire and tentatively directly on to Brighton. They hadn't been all summer.

Noting how much Sybbie enjoyed Igor's company and looking for any excuse to be rid of the dog herself, Elsie asked if he might also mind the dog today including taking him to Yew Tree for routine vaccinations. Charles was fine with that plan.

3:00 pm

"Charlie, where are you? I've another favor to ask, well, relaying on one from Anna, actually."

"Just cleaning up from the tea party. I had to serve Sybbie _and_ Igor." When she didn't chuckle at this bit of truth, he knew it was serious. "What's wrong?"

"John is away in Ireland and Nanny's come down ill. Anna is working on a bridal party and needs help with Jack into the evening. If you're closer to my place than I am at the moment, I was hoping you might get Jack so he needn't attend group with me."

"We are on our way to Yew Tree, but can double back. Besides, Miss Sybbie's wish for a baby brother or sister may be satisfied for an afternoon. Do you want me to still take the dog in?"

"If it's not too much, yes, please."

"No worries, remember, I don't do anything by halves."

"Right, thank you. I'll let Anna know so she can stop worrying and advise Nanny."

3:45 pm

Nanny had Jack, Jack's nappy bag, food, written feeding instructions, and pram ready when Charles, Sybbie and Igor arrived. It was in that moment that Charles realized he might be in over his head. But he took all the supplies over to Elsie's and then came back for Jack and the pram. Determined to carry on, he advised, "Sybbie, you'll need to help CC." She was thrilled.

4:10 pm

Charles opened the door to Yew Tree Clinic, pointed Sybbie in and then backed himself through pulling the pram and Igor. The door had just closed when Beryl appeared from the back speaking routinely, "How may we help – what the? Is that you Charles Carson? Lordy, I haven't seen you nor Elsie in forever, but I didn't think it'd been so long you two could produce two children in the meantime!" She paused as he grimaced. "Who's this?"

"Mrs. Mason, this is Miss Sybbie Branson, my Goddaughter. And you know Elsie's neighbour, Jack Bates."

"Oh, Godfather."

"Yes, better than 'Granddad' which we heard on the walk over, didn't we Sybbie?"


	59. Chapter 59: Mastiff

Sunday, 29 July 2018

The rain they'd driven through Friday morning foreshadowed the tears shed during their 24 hours visiting the Granthams. First, there were Sybil's tears of loss when Charles presented Shrimpie's ashes to her. Next were Elsie's tears, at Charles's thoughtfulness when he told her the charity cricket match would benefit Special Olympics because on last week's outbound train, he'd read about the 50th anniversary games in Chicago - and thought of Becky. Last, Sybbie's tears conveyed love and gratitude as she said goodbye to the departing Charles and Elsie. These last ones in particular prompted reciprocal tears and the reminder to Sybbie from Charles of _always_ being welcome in London.

Upon Saturday morning's departure, Charles had asked Elsie if she'd like to see the Abbey. She had waited that long, she assured him she could wait until the cricket match on the grounds. Besides, they'd promised to stop by Maggie's, Elsie's first visit there. She had been awestruck, Maggie immensely proud, and Charles a little embarrassed at Maggie's showing off the entire wall full of Charles's framed sketches that he'd presented to Maggie over the years from locales around the globe. A new one he'd drawn this past Wednesday of Sybbie at Christo's Mastaba installation in Hyde Park was ready to be hung as well. It was obvious from the collection Charles had real artistic talent and Maggie real affection for him and his work.

As they had passed farms and lorries on the way to Brighton next, Charles and Elsie spoke about the cricket match and brainstormed other possible recruits for the visiting team that Charles would captain. He was confident he could get old friends Charles Blake and Tony Gillingham and _maybe_ Alfred Nugent out to Hampshire to play. Elsie thought the Special Olympics selection could draw Bill and William Mason, Richard Clarkson, Joseph Molesley, Simon Bricker and Thomas Barrow, though the ace in the hole in her estimation was Archie Patmore, a gifted athlete.

Finally, upon their arrival at the Levinson cottage, Elsie had announced her intent to sunbathe on the secluded patio "Martha-style" earning a moan of approval from Charles. When she invited him to join her though, he declined, claiming he'd rather not burn his manhood nor slather it with sunscreen. So whilst she pouted at first, Elsie soon stretched out on her sun lounger as Charles sat nearby in his trunks. With pencil and paper in hand and asking her random bits tied to the cricket match yet, she assumed he did so with a genuine focus on the match - making lists and jotting other considerations. In fact, he was sketching Elsie's nude form, as she later learned when he hesitantly shared the results with her. But he was soon glad that he had for after overcoming her initial shock, Elsie showed him slowly, sincerely and completely her gratitude for his drawing skills that made her not look like that farm girl she'd once been but in fact a more beautiful woman than she had ever considered herself to be.

5:30 am

The air at the cottage was warm and humid, somewhat unbearable before a breeze had kicked in allowing them to fall asleep well after midnight. She'd woken to an intense hot flash that caused her to cast the sheets off their naked bodies. When that wasn't enough to cool her, she retreated to the loo and a cool washcloth. When she returned to the bedroom, she heard Charles snoring and was glad he was able to sleep through her spell. As she approached the bed again, though, she saw that a vital part of him was awake. And thus inspiration struck her.

Charles had been encouraging her about trying her hand at drawing and while she knew she had zero talent, it didn't mean she couldn't try. So she tiptoed to the parlor, dug out pencil and sketchbook and returned to the bedroom. She studied his form from a few different angles and then decided to simply exaggerate in the name of adding to the fun. She had difficulty containing her giggles as she drew a stick figure in roughly Charles's full body posture with flourishes on the face - the suggestion of eyebrows, closed eyes and a big grin - and then where "torso" met "legs."

She was _never_ more excited to draw two circles and an ellipse!


	60. Chapter 60: Treats

Thursday, 9 August 2018

10:20 pm

They were on Elsie's sofa, her bare feet in his lap being treated to a massage. Only his attention was split; whilst his hands kneaded her arches and toes, his eyes were glued to the T20 Caribbean Premier League Cricket Match broadcast started at the top of the hour.

He paid her little mind as she worked her way through the pile of post that had accumulated this week and she was just now tending. "I'll be damned!"

"Ow! Careful, Elsie!" She'd inadvertently kicked him in the groin as she read the contents of one unexpected envelope.

"Sorry, but this is quite exciting, more so than your – who's playing?"

"Guyana Amazon Warriors versus St Kitts and Nevis Patriots."

She rolled her eyes, "As I was saying, this is more exciting. Gwen's getting married!"

He looked sideways at her, lost, "Who's Gwen?" 

"My daft man, Gwen, my former client. You met her, the night of the MoonWalk. Don't you remember?"

"Oh, I remember the night, alright. The night I wore a bra in public!" He sat up a little straighter then, "But if I met Gwen, I've forgotten. _Your_ breasts prompted my forgetfulness," he said as he gestured toward her chest and waggled his eyebrows earning himself a second kick, this time deliberate.

"Ow! Mind the jewels, Elsie!"

"Oh, I mind them, Mr. Carson. All. The. Time." She flipped her orientation then, replacing her feet with her head, in part because the light was better at his end of the sofa.

"Ooh and it's black tie…look Gwen wrote, _Please bring Charlie!"_ She held the invitation up, blocking his view of the telly. He tipped his head back then, so he could read the unfamiliar handwriting.

"Hmmm. I take it you wish to go."

"Aye, will be a real treat – should be the debut of my _new_ breasts, maybe new heels too – oh, and see you in your tuxedo!"

"Heels?" he perked up then.

"Yes, Charlie. He who has a foot fetish can perhaps help me find a new pair of shoes, tall ones so I don't have to reach so high to kiss your lips." He smiled at her teasing. "You will come with me, yes?"

He shrugged his shoulders then. "If you want me. I've always been prone to tearing up at weddings. When the bride walks down the aisle, when the couple has their first dance -"

"Awww, yet again, Mr. Carson has a soft spot." She smiled and reached up to his forehead to play with her favourite curl. "Tell you what, you bring a handkerchief and know you can always hold my hand when we're sitting in the church. Later at the reception I will get you out on the dance floor and steady you there too."

"I think I will hold your hand. And besides, you always steady me." He gently brushed her hair off her forehead before leaning down and pecking her on the tip of her nose, "When is the wedding, and where?"

"Early November, Scarborough."

"Scarborough? What's up there?"

"Probably nothing except an affordable, off-season venue/ honeymoon suite but likely other nice, secluded hotel rooms for their guests," she smiled again. "Gwen wrote the rooms will go quickly, best to book right away. If your intent is to watch this match for a while, I might go up and book a room for us on the computer."

"Here, use my credit card." He helped her sit up then, lest he crush her as he leaned forward to dig his wallet out of his back pocket.

"Charlie, you don't have to."

In truth, she had gone a little overboard for his birthday next week, splurging for what she hoped would be treats for him, for them. Though not the only birthday treats. There was one that Robert was orchestrating. She was just helping coordinate the logistics. She would check on that on the computer as well.


	61. Chapter 61: Roll Over

Friday, 17 August 2018

7:15 am

Charles had no idea what was unfolding in his honour over the next 72 hours when Elsie crawled back onto the bed and kissed her way up from between his bare shoulder blades to the nape of his neck before whispering in his ear, "Surprise, Charlie! Welcome to your birthday weekend!"

He groaned then, as much at the reality of his aging as being fussed over. "Weekend?" e asked irritably. His voice was a low, morning-filled rumble muffled by the right side of his face still buried in the pillow.

"Oh now, don't go all curmudgeonly on me! Lots of surprises in store!" She shook his shoulders then and he rolled over, reluctantly. As he did so, he pulled Elsie tight against his chest.

"Good morning, beautiful." With unopened eyes, he puckered up, longingly. She pecked his lips but then pushed away. "Huh?" His eyes opened fully.

"I need you to get up, Charlie, we've places to go, people to meet! Come now."

9:10 am

Elsie was trying to relax, making small talk with the wax technician. The woman didn't know the term 'keystone' so Elsie had drawn simple geometry again that provided a model. As she set to work, the first and only sounds in the room were the crinkling of tissue paper every time Elsie moved and the snipping of scissors. After several minutes of ripping sounds and awkwardness between them, Elsie peered down. She was quite pleased with the result, and hopeful someone else would be as well.

9:25 am

They'd been reunited in the treatment room corridor. She noted how dashing he looked in the plush white terry dressing gown, his suntanned skin – now a little red and damp – peeking out the neck, cuffs and hem. The steam room he'd just spent 20 minutes in felt heavenly, he could admit, but he'd never had a professional massage and didn't know what all to expect. When she revealed where they were going, he'd told Elsie as much and more explicitly, his uncertainty about a certain detail. She'd suggested he ask in the locker room.

Kevin and the other therapist, Imelda, followed them through the treatment room door. Elsie had been looking forward to this for weeks, having enjoyed her massage with Isobel in early May. When she and Charlie became more serious and she laid up in June, this possibility for his birthday weekend was dreamed up. "And what's the verdict?" Elsie asked him cheerfully once they'd all stepped inside the room. He grimaced. "You didn't ask, did you?" He shook his head. "And you didn't Google it either." She rolled her eyes, steamed at his untimely propriety. "Oh for God's sake!" Somehow the ire made her even sexier in _her_ dressing gown, hair stacked loosely upon the top of her head.

"Is there a problem?" Imelda asked.

Elsie huffed, "Mr. Carson here –"

"Elsie!"

"Charles!" she snapped back at him before closing her eyes, taking a deep breath and stating calmly with a smile to the collective, "I'm sorry. This is Mr. Carson's first ever massage and he wonders," she looked at him, now red beyond the effects of the steam room, "Whether he should _leave his boys in the barracks,_ or otherwise." From personal experience, Kevin suggested if he was wearing boxers, to keep them on, Imelda advised it didn't matter.

That settled, the therapists left them alone momentarily. "Honestly, Charles. You can't even ask your simple question yourself?" Just by her addressing him as Charles, he knew she was upset, even more when she ordered him face down on his table and not to look at her before she disrobed and climbed onto her own.

Imelda had seen his type before: big bear of a man who immediately underestimated her 5-foot nothingness when he advised her to "give it her all." A yelp from him a few minutes later prompted him to capitulate and ask her to dial down the pressure. Imelda smiled, Elsie loved it too raising her otherwise deadweight left arm with a thumb's up. After that momentary entertainment, Elsie let Kevin's hands take her away to a carefree world. As time passed, she was more oblivious to the others in the room, beyond hearing the occasional moan of satisfaction from Charles and instructions for both to roll over.

90-minute treatments elapsed, Charles didn't want to get up but Elsie advised he must. She made no move herself, rather, tersely stated she would meet him at the front desk shortly.

1:25 pm

Maybe it wasn't ideal to sit for a 1.5-hour train ride so soon after their massages, but that was the plan. Elsie didn't tell him where they were going, and he sensed he best not ask for she barely spoke to him, instead mainly looked out her window. Only when the GWR conductor announced their approaching Bath Spa did she instruct him to gather up their belongings to detrain.

She stepped off ahead of him and then reached back for her bag. As he shuttled down the steps, nary two minutes of conversation between them since London, Charles attempted to break the ice, "Elsie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being an ass. Whatever you have planned, I want to enjoy to the fullest. May we please get past the silent treatment?"

She stopped then, turned to him as he caught up to her but didn't say anything for a moment, not until she looked ahead again and pointed to a couple holding two red and one white helium balloons. "Oh, we _will_ talk about it, but not right now."

The couple was Robert and Cora. "Happy birthday weekend, Charles!" Cora greeted him warmly, Robert holding the balloons chided, "You old bloke!"

Charles was stunned, and Elsie instantly her usual warm self again, greeting the Granthams who had arranged their next two nights outside the city. Luncheon was the first order of business and Cora had a booking for them at a delightful little Moroccan restaurant right off the square. As they were finishing off the last of the pudding, Robert clued Charles in.

"On, you have this wonderful tradition of celebrating your birthdays by doing something you've never done before, or since childhood. I hope you'll bend your own rules slightly and agree that something you haven't done since your 30s will suffice to meet the requirement." Charles was stumped.

"We're going fishing – fly fishing – tomorrow, all day, you and me! I've had it planned for months. Then when Ms. Elsie Hughes came into your life," Robert reached for Elsie's arm, squeezing it affectionately, "I wasn't sure if we should carry on. But she agreed a few weeks ago in Hampshire."

Charles looked over at Elsie now too, regretting even more that he'd been an ass this morning.

"Sinderby's Trout Fishery is the finest in the West Country and just 10 miles downstream from Bath so whilst we are out casting and hopefully catching our Saturday supper, Cora and Elsie are presumably going shopping here in the village. I hope you're as prepared as I am to have your credit card maxed out!"

"Mmmm," was all Charles could say as he nodded.

"We can check in after 3:00 and need to get fitted for our waders and other gear this evening if we hope to get started near sunrise tomorrow as suggested."

"I, I don't know what to say, Ham. Thank you."

The foursome stashed balloons and valises in the Grantham's RANGE ROVER before setting out on a self-guided walking tour of Bath from Bath Abbey all the way up the hill to The Royal Crescent. Mainly, Cora walked with Charles, Robert with Elsie making it convenient to delay their talking things out.

After check-in at Sinderby's, and visiting the outfitter with Robert, Charles returned to their cottage, one of eight on the grounds, to find a pensive Elsie lounging in one of the club chairs near the fireplace and already dressed for dinner. They were due to all go back into town tonight to dine.

After he too changed, Charles knelt beside her chair, and hung his head. He'd been thinking through what to say all afternoon, but still found the words hard to come by. "Elsie, love," he said softly, "I'm sorry. It seems you've orchestrated a most magnificent birthday weekend for me, and I…I've mucked it up with my –"

A knock on the cottage door interrupted him and he squeezed his eyes shut, thwarted by the disruption.

Elsie appeared to wipe a tear away as she got up from the chair telling him, "Later, Charlie. Later."

CECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: Elsie's being exceedingly rough on him again, I know. But it's the way things flowed. They get righted next chapter, I promise.


	62. Chapter 62: Dogfish

Saturday, 18 August 2018

Returning to Sinderby's, the foursome had settled with other overnight guests around the fire pit. In time, she and Cora bid goodnight, as Charles's eyes followed Elsie, hopefully. By the time he could excuse himself from the ever-clueless and chatty Robert, it was too late; the lights were out and Elsie's back was facing his side of the bed. In the post-midnight moonlight, he noticed the thin strap of her special nightgown on her left shoulder. He kissed that shoulder and sighed deeply as he made his way to the loo.

12:20 am

By her stillness beside him, he presumed her to be asleep. Rather, she was wide awake, teeth clenched. When she heard him sigh again, she spoke up.

"I can't do it, Charlie."

It was unexpected and he turned toward her. "Elsie?"

"I can't do it _all_ , Charlie." She was still facing away from him. "I am juggling a full time job; running a household; taking care of a blasted dog I didn't even want, a sister with a disability, an elderly mentor, and managing her affairs including an aging vehicle and seldom-used property. This summer alone I've required one unplanned medical procedure that cost me income and am scheduled for a different one that will do the same. And I'm going through menopause and my shifting hormones. All that and you…you need me to ask your bloody massage question? I want and need your help. I can't do it all, Charlie, I can't." She flopped over onto her back now, her arms crossed above her head.

He swallowed deeply realizing how something seemingly so small in his world was much bigger in hers.

"I need you to help me out, please – and I don't mean your credit card as Robert suggested at luncheon. God, I like them but does everything revolve around money? Do they not realize how the working half lives?"

He turned the bedside light on then, both of them squinting to adjust to the light. He grimaced, choosing his words carefully. "Elsie, you're right they are rich beyond words and don't know what to do with it all but are very generous to others, myself included. It's not why they're my friends, far from it. It's their reality though; I recognized that decades ago at a time when I knew I'd never be able to compare. Still can't, even after…everything." He paused then, shifted so he was looking at her as she continued to stare at the ceiling beams.

"You, my darling, make me ten times richer in other regards." She turned then, attention caught by his admission. He was stroking the exposed side of her breast closest to him with his index finger. "I'm sorry, Elsie, for adding to your stress. I didn't mean to and I'm glad you called me out on it. Keep doing it, for I'm not perfect and fear I might be an ass again. I aspire to make your life better, not worse, just as you've done for me these last several months. Please be patient with me. I love that we're here, I loved the massage yesterday morning, but above all, I love you." He looked at her hopefully then and smiled when her eyes softened.

"Mr. Carson, you old booby – come here." She lowered her arms then, wrapping them around his neck pulling him down to her lips. "I love you, too. Now turn off that light, you've an early morning and we best get some sleep. He did as she ordered, then spooned against her back, sharing her pillow and breathing in the sweet scent of her as one arm draped across her stomach, covered by hers.

In the morning, Charles left a note and his credit card on her bedside table.

 _I LOVE YOU, find a dress for Gwen's wedding – and anything else that catches your eye! Xoxo Charlie_

She did find a dress, a stunning navy blue number, sleeveless with a frilly front detail all the way down to its ankle-length hemline. They found it in one of the quirky shops at Bath's Green Park Station.

After a leisurely lunch and shopping done, Cora noticed the Theatre Royal had a matinee performance at 2:30 and asked if Elsie might enjoy a play. SWITZERLAND sounded fine to her and there were seats available.

5:15 pm

Cora and Elsie returned to Sinderby's to find that Robert and Charles were still fishing. The women changed their shoes and walked down to the river. It was a beautiful setting: gently flowing river surrounded by dense foliage and wildlife. In water just past their knees, Charles and Robert were some 50 feet apart wearing chest-high waders, plaid shirts under fishing vests and hats, each with a net tethered to them. They cast their lines toward deeper waters rhythmically and beautifully, to the point where both Cora and Elsie took out their mobiles to photograph the scene.

"Haven't you lads had enough? It seems the others have all finished."

"Cora! Shhh, you'll scare the fish. We're tied. Whomever catches the next one wins and then we're done."

"Are you tied at zero or will there be trout for dinner?"

At that Charles felt a nibble, "Ah-ha! Ham, I've got you, I've got you!" Sure enough, he worked the line in then before reaching his left hand into the water and proudly lifting his catch so all could see. "That's it, we're done! Team Carson wins the 2018 fishing derby!" He was walking toward the shore where Elsie met him.

"Charlie, that's a beautiful fish! Congratulations! Let me get your picture close up." He held the 16" fish in front of him then with both hands, a big grin on his face. She held her mobile up for his approval. With that, he dug out the fly and released the trout back in the water.

"That was indeed a beautiful fish, but nothing compared to you. Hello. Have you had a good day?"

"Lovely day. You too?"

"Mmmm. Wonderful, just got better though."

He kissed her then as Robert approached.

"He did well, Elsie, for a city lad! You'd be impressed."

"Yorkshire lad first, Ham."

"What little I just saw, I was impressed and I know a thing or two about fly fishing, thanks to my da."

"You do?"

"I am from Scotland after all. Learned to tie my first fly by age six probably."

"Why didn't you say? You could have joined us."

"And miss a day of shopping and theatre? Take Sybbie next time if you want a lass to join you."

5:40 pm

Gear returned to the outfitter, they'd just left Robert and Cora at their cottage and were continuing to walk hand in hand toward their own.

"So Elsie Hughes can tie a fly." His voice turned more serious. "You know, if my palsy intensifies to the point where I can't…"

She put her hand on his arm as he unlocked the cottage door. "If so, I'd be willing to tie your fly, straighten your tie, zip – or unzip – your fly, butter your rye, and slice your pie…'til the day I die!" by the time she finished, there was a mischievous grin on her face.

"You'd do all that for me, or at least try?"

So this was going to be a little game. "Aye; we sound so silly, I could cry."

"That's no lie."

"Mr. Carson, you reek of river and fish. Please go bathe, then give your body a chance to dry."

"Join me, please."

"That didn't rhyme." But he bent down and nuzzled her neck then, wantonly. "Thanks Charlie, but I'll take a bye."

"Sigh."

10:00 pm

They feasted al fresco on fresh trout that had been cleaned and prepared by Sinderby's cook Stowell with dill, lemon, butter and garlic, fresh veg and rice on the side. The chardonnay flowed until the weather turned cooler and they went back to the Granthams' cottage where Robert broke out the bottle of gin he'd lost to Elsie back in June when Scotland defeated England. "Now that I'm able to drink again," Robert raised his glass against Elsie's. What was left unsaid was that Elsie herself would soon be off alcohol as part of her pre-op for her implant replacement. Robert and Cora knew of it and it had come up as Elsie was trying on dresses earlier today.

"Ah, well, if the gin is for Elsie, there is one more bit for On," Robert looked at Cora knowingly.

"Thank God," she muttered as Robert walked over to the sideboard, then to Charles with a festive gift bag.

"Where did you find _this_?" Charles asked joyfully as he looked inside.

"Sybil found it. In Mama's attic after Christmas when she was storing the decorations. I'd forgotten all about it."

 _This_ was a taxidermied trout, framed in an underwater scene.

"Brilliant!" Charles held the frame up for Elsie to see.

"Charles, I am grateful you outfished my husband so you can claim it as rightfully yours and I don't have to look at it anymore! He's had it in our bedroom so you wouldn't see it on your Hampshire visits. I'm sorry, Elsie, it's going home with Charles."

"There must be a story there."

"Yes, it's a trophy from our first fishing foray with both our fathers, what 40 years ago? It was caught by my father, the first fish that fine day. It was traded back and forth several years, until –" Charles grew wistful.

"Until my father took it home one year and pre-schooler Sybil, when visiting her grandparents, was scared by it."

"Patrick must have put it in the attic that very moment, he loved his granddaughters so."

Charles raised his glass then, "To Patrick Earl Grantham."

He wasn't the only tipsy one in the group as the others raised their glasses. "So, now the first trout fishing trophies are reunited again."

Charles glared at Robert who just sniggered.

"What does that mean?"

Robert could barely contain his chardonnay and gin-fueled glee as he spilled a 40 year secret that even Cora had never heard before – that the scar on the right side of Charles's chin was also a souvenir of an accident he had attempting to tie his first fly on that maiden fishing trip.

"Oh Lord, imagine that I could tie one at age six!" Elsie teased before getting up. "I'll be right back."

She returned moments later, another package in her hands. "Since this seems to be gift time and it will be easier to pack everything away in the morning, Charlie, happy early birthday." She extended the package toward him before adding for Robert and Cora's benefit, "As you know, Charlie's all about teaching and learning. Seems I could have taught him a thing or two about tying flies decades ago. More recently, however, he's taught me something."

He was entirely lost. So his chin dropped when he unwrapped the now framed line drawing of his nude self Elsie had drawn in Brighton just two weeks ago. She'd since "signed" one corner with a red lip print and her name. At present, Charles was nearly as red as the lips.

Robert and Cora were in stitches over the drawing as Elsie leaned on Charles's armrest to leave another lip print on his lips, "Naughty, Elsie, naughty!" he mouthed.

"Very."


	63. Chapter 63: Every Dog Has His Day

A/N: T+ or M? I'm not sure - just very happy birthday wishes for Mr. C!

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

Sunday, 19 August 2018

They'd stumbled to their cottage well after midnight, Charles so exhausted, Elsie had to help him unzip his jeans as she'd teasingly promised she would on Saturday.

8:00 am

She woke first and was glad. Given that today was his birthday, she let him enjoy his lie in whilst she enjoyed studying him: mussed hair and shadow of a beard; 62 now and handsome as the devil she thought. He eventually roused, stretched slowly, and when he did she hit play on her mobile starting THE BEATLES', BIRTHDAY. His sleepy smile was greeted with a hearty good morning/ happy birthday kiss.

Snuggled against him, when the notes eventually faded she asked, "Charlie, where were you last year on your birthday?"

"Stonehenge."

"Stonehenge? I know you like history, but _Stonehenge_ – for your birthday?"

"Yes, love," he rubbed his face awake. "i hadn't been since childhood and it intersects history and architecture, of course. Fascinating, really. Do you know the monument features six concentric polygons including the perimeter 56-sided one, which is the most complex geometric form that can be created using a single rope? Or that Stonehenge may also have led to the concepts of 56-sided polygons becoming important within religious beliefs across Europe? For example, ancient Greek classical mythology associated a 56-sided polygon with the weather god Typhon, Zeus's great rival for divine supremacy."

Slapping his shoulder, she chided, "Oh go back to sleep, Mr. Carson. Geometry was not my favourite subject!" With that, he closed his eyes and exaggeratedly pretended to snore (again).

"Well, I mean, I could handle _simple_ geometry," she nudged him to stop. "Don't you think I demonstrated my mastery of an ellipse in your gift last night?" she grinned. He rolled his reopened eyes. "Of course, you saw I also like circles," she sniggered. "Do you like circles, Charlie? I mean, other than the ones at Stonehenge?"

He watched then as she leaned back onto her pillow, beginning to slowly trace the perimeter of her left areola through her nightgown.

He swallowed and replied breathlessly, "Yes, I like circles."

Then she reached for his right hand, bringing it to cup the underside of her full right breast. "And what about arcs?"

In fact his eyebrows were now raised in arcs of their own. "Good."

Looking down toward her beaded left nipple, she asked about points.

He licked his lips, "You can't have arcs or circles without points."

"Well, sometimes you can, but we don't need to go there right now, do we?" she asked as she brushed his wiry cheek.

Shorts feeling tighter by the second, he rolled onto his side and his erection pointing into her hip. "Let me ask you, Elsie; how do you feel about more linear forms of geometry?" He smiled wickedly, eyes dark.

She relished his feistiness. "Linear forms do fit together with other linear forms most efficiently."

He was unsure of what she meant, until she helped him lift her hem past her hips. Her recently shorn trapezoidal Brazilian was a revelation that put a wide smile on his face.

"Oh, Elsie, love."

"Happy birthday Charlie, it's a keystone. An architectural essential, no?"

"A symbol of completion."

Reaching down she made him twitch. "Complete me, Charlie."

He proceeded to lift the gown fully over her head before she helped him shed his vest and shorts. He worked on completing her - them - as the geometry lesson continued including refreshers on diameters, circumferences, and angles.


	64. Chapter 64: Dog and Pony Show

Sunday, 26 August 2018

6:45 pm

Elsie could almost hear the music as she stepped out of the lift and into the hallway; she could definitely _feel_ it as she put her key in the lock.

Charles did not hear her come in, or her "Hello?" – nor did Igor. Was it any wonder given how loud the instrumental notes and Eric Clapton's voice were pouring out of the wireless speakers?

She put her keys and purse down on the sideboard and walked further into his flat in a quest to find out what in the world Charles was up to. As she approached the step up into the main living quarters she stopped suddenly and raised her hands to her mouth in surprise.

It had been a long, trying weekend at Becky's – the first of two back-to-back she was spending with the residents in order to accommodate her upcoming unavailability due to her implant surgery. But this, this wiped away _all_ her troubles! She retreated to her purse and fished out her mobile before returning to the same corner to lean against the wall and enjoy the sight in front of her: Charles across the room facing the curtain wall, dancing with all his might to LAY DOWN SALLY!

Elsie videod him then as her teeth and jaw – by way of clamping down on her lower lip – contained her vocal glee. The whole sight was adorable, if only he'd tucked his powder blue shirt into his jeans so she could better see his bottom as he shimmied left across the floor! She hit the stop button and then tucked her phone in her capri pocket before making her move to crash this little party.

She was five strides away when she joined in, silencing a startled Charles as he spun toward her.

" _Lay down, Sally, no need to leave so soon  
I've been trying all night long just to talk to you"_

Only, when he saw the playfulness on her face, and auburn ponytail bobbing over her left shoulder as she danced toward him, he reached out and took her hands in his, pulling her right up to him for a kiss on the lips. And then they sang and danced the last few verses together.

" _So don't you go and say goodbye  
You can lay your worries down and stay with me  
And don't you ever leave_

" _Lay down, Sally, and rest you in my arms_

 _Don't you think you want someone to talk to?  
Lay down, Sally, no need to leave so soon  
I've been trying all night long just to talk to you_

" _Lay down, Sally, and rest you in my arms_

 _Don't you think you want someone to talk to?  
Lay down, Sally, no need to leave so soon  
I've been trying all night long just to talk to you"_

It was only then that he turned down the volume via the remote and Elsie wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Carson alongside Clapton, eh?"

"Erm…yes. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? I didn't realize you were coming over." 

"You did give me a key and an open invitation, some weeks back."

"Mmmm, I remember. But I don't remember the pony tail before, I like it!" He ran his fingers down through its last few inches, pulling it back over her shoulder.

"It was pseudo spa day courtesy of the hands of Becky and Elsie Hughes. New hair styles for all at Becky's as well as manis and pedis." She raised her left hand in front of his face then, showing off the deep, watery blue of her fingernails.

"You know I love the colour blue," he waggled his eyebrows then.

"Yes, I remember. And I also remember you have a thing about feet, so do know the same colour is on my toenails, Mr. Carson."

"Brilliant!"

"Charlie, I'm famished and could eat a horse. Since I don't smell anything cooking, am I to presume you've already eaten, or will you please take me out for dinner?"

Feigning surprise he replied, "The lass wants me to take her out to dinner! I think that can be arranged."

8:55 pm

The sun had set nearly and hour before and they enjoyed watching it go down over central London whilst dining on Thai: chicken satay to start, followed by tofu curry for her and beef with broccoli for him. Dinner conversation had centered around all her to-dos at Becky's and his having been recruiting the members of his cricket team for the charity match in Hampshire. Now, though, they were strolling back to South Bank Tower hand-in-hand.

"Elsie, will you stay the night?"

"Only if you sing to me, Charlie." She was only teasing but soon delighted as he began serenading her, albeit not with the vigor she'd witnessed a few hours before:

" _Lay down, Elsie, and rest you in my arms_

 _Don't you think you want someone to talk to?  
Lay down, Elsie, no need to leave so soon  
I've been trying all night long just to talk to you"_

She blushed at his loving gesture. She knew he didn't think he could sing well, but for him to do so here, in public, even if she were the only one who could hear him, well, she knew she was one lucky lass.


	65. Chapter 65: Fido, Lido & Libido

Monday, 27 August 2018

The August Bank Holiday was for all intents and purposes the end of summer and this was a lovely one that begged to be spent outdoors. Unbelievably, they had yet to go out for a bicycle ride together so when Charles made that suggestion over breakfast, Elsie was game. Little did she know that he'd been scoping out the bike share options spread across the city and had determined the yellow Ofos as the chosen ride for her. It had nothing to do with proximity of a share station, rather the entirely technical considerations of weight, frame size, and tyres.

Remembering that Elsie didn't appreciate his leaving minutae for her to take care of, Charles had even researched a destination for them: Ruislip, not quite 20 miles northwest of the city centre and home to the only Doggy Lido in the metro area. After their weekend alone together, it was Charles's reasoning that "Igor" would enjoy a visit there.

Inside the doggy trolley attached to his bike, Charles had loaded water bowl, ball launcher, tennis balls, towel and leash in addition to Igor. On his back, Charles carried a rucksack with blanket, grapes, crudités, a litre of water and biscuits - both the human and dog variety.. And, after renting Elsie's bike and fitting it to her, they took their time making their way to Ruislip.

Once arrived at the Doggy Lido, both shed their shoes and socks to cool their warm feet in the refreshing water. As relaxing as that all was, Igor was a hyper mess as other dogs romped freely in the water and on the sand whilst Charles kept him leashed. Finally, Elsie encouraged Charles to let him off the leash to play fetch. Igor bound into the water with such exuberance that he splashed water all over Charles's front even before the first ball was launched. Thereafter, Charles had the good sense to stand in the wet sand, out of the splash zone, as his ball launching continued.

Elsie had even better sense, retreating to a spot on the grass where she spread their blanket and luncheon.

1:30 pm

A panting Igor back on one end of the leash, Charles on the other, they approached Elsie who was lying on her back, right leg extended up in the air. As Elsie concentrated on stretching her calf, she was surprised when Charles wrapped his hand gently around her ankle asking, "Are you alright, Elsie?"

She shaded her eyes then as she looked up to his voice, his face framed perfectly by the sun, "Saint Charles," she giggled, "I'm fine you daft man, just a little out of shape when it comes to the pedaling."

He let the ball launcher fall beside the blanket then and helped massage her leg; he could still feel a bit of the bump from her varicose veins. "I think you're in wonderful shape,love," and he smiled down at her.

"All things considered," she muttered under her breath.

"What's that you say?"

"I say whilst we have a wet dog, why don't you go over to that vendor kart and purchase us some hot dogs?"

He did exactly that before all three enjoyed a cat nap in the sun. Later, the ice cream vendor's bell stirred Charles to sit up and inquire if Elsie wanted anything. She declined but Charles bought one for himself.

As Charles sat beside her licking his cone and Elsie lounged on the blanket, her mind was thinking back.

"Charlie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you realize it's been six months since we met, by chance, that Sunday in Greenwich Park when you first won Igor over with your skills and dedication with the ball launcher?"

He smiled at the memory. "I do remember; 'twas one of the best days of my life." He reached for her hand then. "A beautiful Scottish lass invited me to join her for a walk in the park, I distracted her with my charm and good looks and next thing you know she's wiping down her dog's wet bollocks!"

She swatted his leg then, "Gods, Charlie, must you remember all the gory details?"

"Any bloke worth his salt would find that one pretty hard to forget," he chuckled.

Before heading back, they strolled the high street of Ruislip. Many of the shops were closed due to the Bank Holiday but a few were open, including a natural foods and supplement shop that had one handsome staff member in his late 20s out on the sidewalk offering free samples of their various health smoothies. Both Charles and Elsie declined at first but when the young man changed his sales pitch just after they'd passed to mention "Maam, are you moody, irritable, or feeling fatigued? If so, you should try our Sex on the Lido smoothie." Elsie stopped then and extended her arm across Charles's front to stop him too. She gestured for him to turn around with her where she encouraged the young man to say more.

He was as tall as Charles, probably 3 stone lighter, had a full dark beard, and biceps that stretched out his t-shirt's sleeves. His name tag said Daniel and he spoke without hesitation about menopause-related hormonal imbalances that manifest in low sex drive, vaginal dryness, moodiness, irritability and fatigue, all symptoms of hormonal imbalances. Elsie enthusiastically tried a taster cup of the plant-based purple smoothie that according to Daniel contained, "passionflower, chaste berry and wild yam that have soothing properties similar to progesterone and can help level your moods, reduce irritability and decrease sleep irregularities." Together, these ingredients would, "improve sensation and responsiveness, vitality, endurance and stamina" whilst the "Ashwagandha influences testosterone production making it an aphrodisiac."

When Daniel finished his sales pitch, a flabbergasted Charles was being asked by Elsie to buy her a large.


	66. Chapter 66: What's your dog's name?

Saturday, 1 September 2018

Since Charles and Robert had hatched their idea nearly two months prior of playing in a charity cricket match, both had been busy behind the scenes with preparations for the event.

Robert had secured the Abbey grounds for the venue, booked the local inn for lodging Charles's team of out-of-towners, spoken with local caterers regarding serving a traditional afternoon tea on the grounds and a post-match reception for both teams, as well as building his team. Cora was focused on advertising and ticket sales. Comparatively simple, Charles had focused on recruiting neutral umpires and his roster of players and offering suggestions for expanded, behind-the-scenes tours of the Abbey with all proceeds also going toward the Special Olympics.

When he had heard the athletically-blessed Tom Branson would be back in the UK and playing in the match - pledged to Robert's team - Charles's competitive instincts had kicked his player recruiting into overdrive. He had himself, Bill and William Mason, Richard Clarkson, and Joe Molesley as easy drafts. Joe, Charles's deputy, also brought James Dawes, a colleague of his to the team. With a few phone calls, Charles's former work colleagues Tony Gillingham, Charles Blake, and Alfred Nugent agreed to join them. Duke Painswick was one Charles realized could go to either roster so he was glad when civic pride won out over family ties and he committed to Charles as well. Thomas Barrow, unfortunately had hurt his hand, requiring surgery and a splint. Regardless of Thomas's decommissioning as a player, he agreed to umpire. Simon Bricker was the last of the initial recruits, a couple of roster spots still needed to be filled, including one benchwarmer.

4:00 pm

With not quite a month to go, Charles had convened his team for the first time. Yorkshire resident William was unable to attend so their practice was further handicapped yet this afternoon's meet up was more to get to know one another; communicate details of the weekend of 29/30 September; to take turns bowling, batting and fielding to assess strengths and weaknesses and determine defensive positions and strategize on the team's batting order.

These drills had happened on a makeshift pitch and outfield at Greenwich Park over the last few hours with all the above in attendance, plus a couple of spectators who agreed to watch on the sidelines to determine whether to join the team. All were now sat down at tables inside the nearby Dog and Duck nursing Pimms cocktails or pints of beer for the discussion part. There was unanimous agreement that Charles, regardless of being captain, was their best bowler. Bill knew William to be fleet afoot and encouraged he be deployed such that the team could best use that to their advantage.

Charles turned then to his longtime friend Charlie Grigg, one of the observers, who admitted feeling less than confident in his playing abilities that had declined over the years. Charles patted his friend's belly then and chuckled, "That's what happens when you let yourself go, mate!" Nonetheless, Grigg agreed to be the team's "in case of emergency" reserve.

That left one spot on the field to fill and Charles and "Uncle Bill" cornered Archie Patmore who'd been on the fence all along citing his interest in weekends alone with girlfriend Daisy. Charles's persuasion tactic was to acknowledge the joys of having a lass to spend weekends with and that Daisy might also enjoy the complimentary weekend getaway. Bill appealed more to the lady's ego pointing out, aside from his William and Alfred, the team had a couple blokes in their early 40s but otherwise were well older than that - Archie's athleticism could make him the team's star player. In the end, that's what prompted Archie to commit to be the last piece in the puzzle.

6:45 pm

Home now and pleased to share the recruiting news with Elsie, he phoned her over at Becky's where some of the afternoon had also focused on preparations for the upcoming cricket match with Elsie having volunteered Becky to draw a picture for the advertisement.

"Charlie, it's very simple in a Becky sort of way but the old photos of you in your cricket whites provided Becky some inspiration. I think you'll be pleased."

He'd come home and showered and was now seated in his navy dressing gown, feet up on the desk in his office. He was looking at the two newly added frames presented to him on his birthday weekend that sat atop his bank of flat files when he replied, "Brilliant Els, I just hope that unlike her older sister, Becky has drawn me with my clothes on!"

She giggled, "Well, you'll just have to wait and see! Oh, Becky needs to speak with you, she has a question for you." She handed her mobile to Becky then.

"Charlie?"

"Yes, petal?"

"Elsie is sending Mrs. Grantham my drawing yet tonight, but she said you still haven't shared your team's name yet."

"Oh, we need a name? Maybe you can help me come up with one." He rattled off who was on the team all, many of whom Becky knew for years. He'd just finished mentioning his friend Charles Blake when Becky interrupted him.

"I've got it, Charlie. Bill, William, Simon, Archie and Mr. Molesley are always so happy - and you too - plus three Charlies, your team should be named The Cheerful Charlies!"


	67. Chapter 67: Snoopy

Sunday, 2 September 2018

7:45 pm

"She's right here. I'll put her on, Cora." Charles held his mobile out to Elsie who was standing at his kitchen counter drying their dinner dishes. "It's for you."

"Cora?"

"Oh hi, Elsie. I received the jpeg of the graphic for the advertisements - "

"Is there a problem? I never know with those things, it's a foreign world to me still."

"Well, I don't want there to be a copyrighting problem. I want to make sure we give the proper credit for authorship. Tell me please, who drew the graphic?"

"Oh, that would be my sister, Becky. Becky Hughes."

At first there was silence, before Cora's voice returned, tentatively. "Your sister," silence again. "I'm sorry, Elsie, I understood your sister Becky to be the one with the, um -"

"The disability. She's not quite right in the head, I always say. Aye, that would be Becky."

"Remarkable," Cora muttered at first.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that, Cora." Elsie nodded thanks to Charles who had just leashed Igor to take the dog outside.

7:55 pm

Charles and Igor returned from their quick trip downstairs, the dog bounding to his water bowl in the butler's pantry as soon as Charles let him off the leash. After he had washed his hands, Charles was surprised to find a perplexed looking Elsie standing over a pile of loose papers on his desk, others in her hand.

"Elsie, is everything alright, love?"

"Charlie, when Becky stayed here at the time of my kidney stone, I recall you let her draw, yes?"

"Among other things."

"Focus on the drawing. Do you recall what happened to the papers she drew on?"

Charles didn't know immediately and his expression said as much. "Why, is there a problem?"

"No, no problem at all." Elsie walked over to him then and reached up resting her forearm lightly against his chest, yet kept her eyes on the pile of papers. "Cora was surprised - no amazed - by Becky's drawing for the cricket match advertisement." Looking up at Charles then, she continued then, herself dumbfounded by what she was about to relay. "Cora says Becky has natural artistic ability. Did you happen to remember any of Becky's drawings she made here in June, Charlie?"

He draped his arms around her middle then, pulling her closer. "No, love, I don't. I was rather focused on taking care of you. Why?"

"Cora wants to see more of Becky's work, and I was looking to see if those were here still."

"Well, Cora is certainly a good judge of talent. I am afraid I paid them little notion, and maybe threw them in the recycling bin, or, no, I bet they are here. I kind of remember pitting them in a drawer along with colored pencils - for future visits. Let's try to find them."

"Let's. Cora actually thinks we could include some in a silent auction at the cricket match."


	68. Chapter 68: Droopy Dog

Thursday, 14 September 2018

6:40 pm

"Ah, there she is, Becky. There's Elsie!"

At Charles's delighted declaration, Becky looked up from where she was practicing the magic trick Charles had taught her in the last hour. They were together on a park bench across the street from Elsie's office building waiting to walk to dinner together.

"She looks pretty, Charlie."

"She does, Becky. Always." Becky noted the glint in his eye as he whistled and then waved to get Elsie's attention, and Elsie's reciprocal smile and quickened step when she spotted them.

Charles was pleased to see Elsie looking so carefree; remarkable, he thought, for someone who was knowingly due to go into surgery in some 13 hours. Undoubtedly, it helped her mood to have been through this protocol before, to have so much trust in her physician, to have Charles to lean on, and Becky nearby.

Having learned early in the summer that it was important to keep Becky aware of Elsie's well-being, Charles had suggested Becky stay over again. To ensure tomorrow's early start would not be any more chaotic than necessary, the sleepover was to begin tonight. And, Charles had already driven over to Becky's and they had dropped off her valise, Igor, and the car to South Bank Tower.

8:00 pm

Whilst Elsie was calorie counting, she could not argue against their all sharing an order of profiteroles. It was over that and a pot of tea that Elsie introduced a topic that she and Charles had discussed in the days since Charles had invited Becky to spend the upcoming days - and nights - at his flat.

"Becks, your things are over at Charlie's already, yes?" Elsie glanced over at Charles knowingly. That was in part what they'd agreed to.

"Uh-huh."

"When it's time for bed tonight, we'll make up Charlie's guest bed - for you."

Remembering she had slept with Elsie at the time of her kidney stone, Becky didn't say anything right away, then asked, "Where will you sleep, Elsie?"

Elsie reached across the top of the table, extending her fingers in an invitation to Charles who squeezed them encouragingly. Despite her nervousness, Elsie stated confidently, "With Charlie," before looking at Becky to gauge her reaction. The younger Hughes sister's face was simply beaming, an expression that delighted and relieved both Elsie and Charles.

"So I gather you're happy about our news?" Elsie asked.

Becky nodded then added, "You need somebody nice, Elsie, to cuddle, and not only is Charlie nice...I love him!"

"I do too, Becky." At that, Elsie pulled an emotional Charles over for a kiss on the lips as he gladly complied.

10:40 pm

After washing her teeth, Elsie packed her valise whilst Charles readied himself for bed. When she returned to the bath, Charles was bent over the sink, shirtless, having just spit out his mouthwash. Elsie stopped and started to chuckle at the sight. "What's so funny?" he asked as he stood up wiping his mouth.

"Mr. Carson, I can't wait to have my breast implants replaced tomorrow - so that I can fill in a bra better than you!" It was true, Elsie's left side was back practically to its pre-pubescent state.

Rather than grudgingly acknowledge that bit of truth, Charles instead stoically advised he would meet her in bed momentarily.

Charles laid down the remote for the gas fireplace as Elsie, clad in one of his old, red England Rugby t-shirts cuddled into his side under the duvet. She sighed contentedly as she watched the dancing flames. "Becky was right, I do need someone to cuddle and you and your moobs make a wonderful team." She looked up, teasingly. Once again, Charles face remained serious. "I'm sorry, Charlie, I know you're worried, I'm just trying to lighten the mood is all. I appreciate your concern, but am confident all will be fine."

"I certainly hope so and can't wait til it's over." He kissed the top of her head then, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her closer. "There is one part I'm looking forward to."

She returned the squeeze, around his middle.

"What pray tell is that? My upcoming weeks in a corset or helping me change the dressings?"

"I pledge to help however I can. No, what I look forward to is when you're coming out of the anaesthesia. You have a pattern of sharing risqué thoughts and wishes." Now he teased.

"I assure you I can be risqué even without anesthesia, Charlie." He arched his eyebrows then before she leaned up and whispered in his ear, the commentary catching his attention.

"But Becky is...just...over yonder."

"Aye, and she knows about sex. I had The Talk with her years ago, after a young man, also with disabilities, tried to kiss her, though I dare say she was clued in some way back when I had my first real boyfriend, back in Argyll." Elsie had inched his shorts down over his hips and was kissing his chest to arouse him as she shared this.

"You've never told me about your first time, Elsie, your first lover."

She looked up then, his right nipple loosely held between her teeth. "Not now, Charlie."

He combed his hand through the amber locks at her forehead. "Just tell me his name."

"Joe."


	69. Chapter 69: Jumper Puppies

Saturday, 15 September 2018

8:40 am

There was a knock at her door, "Elsie, love? Away with the fairies were you?" Charles crossed to her bedside where she was seated upright. When he saw her attempt to lift her chin for a kiss, he stopped her. "Ah! Don't go straining yourself." Instead, he bent over at the waist to kiss her right and good on the lips. "How did you sleep?"

"Not well, it's not terribly conducive to sleeping –commotion out in the hallway and no snoring, big cuddly bear of a man beside me."

"Well, I didn't sleep terribly well either, so perhaps I'll snore even more tonight – when you're back in our bed." He smiled then. Elsie's implant replacement surgery had gone swimmingly yesterday, no complications whatsoever. Beryl had waited with Charles, Becky and Violet throughout the whole procedure.

" _Our_ bed? I've always thought if it as _your_ bed, Charlie."

"Semantics. The key is you beside me."

"Where's Becky?"

"At home – my home – with Beryl who's fixing up a breakfast feast for us and based on all the other food she brought in this morning, she must think your big cuddly bear is readying for winter hibernation."

She shook her head, "That sounds like Beryl. But I thought you and Becky had dinner over there last night."

"We did, and I brought home leftovers, too. Honestly, she must think I've never stepped foot in a grocer's."

"Well, she knows I don't like to. And her heart's in the right place. Food is how Beryl expresses love."

"Indeed. No Dr. Kuragin yet?"

"No, any minute and I can't wait. I want to get this dressing off and get the all clear to go home."

8:57 am

"Ah, Elsie…how's my favouite patient? Mr. Carson, good morning, sir."

"Doctor," Charles stood up and shook Kuragin's hand. As the conversation continued, the focus turned to how Elsie was feeling. When Elsie's nurse arrived and shut the door indicating it was time to take the dressings off, Charles made to depart. "I'll leave you be."

"No, Charlie, I'll need your help in the coming days to clean and dress the incisions and you need to stay to learn how to do it right – I know you're all about doing things properly," she teased. He settled then, other than a pounding heart.

"Let's have a look then." Kuragin helped Elsie put on a pair of latex gloves before returning the bed to a flat position then he and the nurse put on their own gloves.

Kuragin stayed on the side closest to the door whilst the nurse walked around to beside Charles who was now looking nervous. "Charlie, it'll be okay, but don't forget to breathe," Elsie smiled.

The nurse undid Elsie's hospital gown then, revealing her post-operative corset. As the nurse pressed the sides of the corset together to unfasten the hooks from the loops and talked Charles and Elsie through what she was doing, Charles noted that Elsie bit her lip. Only this time, it wasn't a turn on for him. "Are you in pain, Elsie?"

"No Charlie, not pain, it's just tender."

"There's inherently some swelling and bruising, Mr. Carson." Charles nodded in understanding but found himself holding his breath. When the corset was near completely undone, Kuragin instructed Elsie to position her hands atop the upper half of her respective breasts, above the gauze line to support them when the corset was freed. She knew what to do, from decades ago as well as last night's one dressing change by the nurse.

Kuragin began on the right, slowly and gently peeling back the tape and then gauze, speaking in a calming voice. Through the discolouration, he could tell all was looking good. Charles felt a little queasy but he took a deep breath and remained steady for Elsie. Kuragin discarded the spent dressing, inspected the incision closely, pleased to not find any signs of infection. He dipped a clean cotton pad in warm, soapy water before putting it to Elsie's skin and wiping to clear the dried blood. He then used a second cotton pad to dry the incision. He showed Charles how to drape the clean bandage and tape it over the incision site, to be taut against the skin but not too tight.

Kuragin asked Charles if he thought he could do those steps. Semi-confidently Charles agreed, "Yes, yes I can."

"Then here, put on a pair of gloves, Mr. Carson. And you change the left dressing as we both supervise."


	70. Chapter 70: Husky

Tuesday, 18 September 2018

Four days after her surgery and three days after being discharged, Elsie's recovery was going well. During the twice daily dressings changes, a hand mirror helped her monitor the fading bruises and mending incisions. She was grateful for Charles's attention and gentleness in those intimate moments that took place on his bed or in the master en suite, and his protective oversight throughout the days. Under the watchful and constant care of Charles Ernest Carson, there was no concern of Elsie Mae Hughes violating Dr. Kuragin's "no lift" orders - Charles wouldn't permit her to even lift a finger.

7:30 am

This morning after helping her change the dressings, Charles had brewed a pot of tea and brought it to her nightstand. The first mug was in her hand as she thumbed through the morning news on his tablet whilst Charles showered. Though she thought nothing of it when she heard the water stop, hearing him swear, "Shit!" a moment later was a surprise.

"Charlie?"

When he didn't answer, she awkwardly turned her upper body - currently contained in the restrictive corset - to put down her mug and scoot out of bed. "What's wrong, Charlie?" she asked as she turned the corner into his dressing room.

"Why are you out of bed?" he asked curtly.

"Because I heard you swear and grew concerned when you didn't answer me. What's wrong?"

She spoke too soon as it was evident what was wrong - the zipper had broken on the trousers he was trying to put on - his cricket trousers.

His right hand on the waistband at either side of the zipper was keeping his trousers up.

"They won't zip."

Seeing how snug they "fit", she couldn't help but ask, "Did they ever?"

"Funny," he mumbled.

"Well?"

"Yes, they did. They fit fine the last time I played cricket."

"And which decade was that?"

He looked up and glared at her but did not reply to that jab.

"I shouldn't have eaten so much of that pudding Beryl delivered Sunday night." To mark Elsie's chest being restored, Beryl had baked and delivered a half dozen of the Pink Lamingtons she'd first made for the Girls' Night Out last spring. As much pleasure as Beryl had decorating them at home Sunday afternoon, her biggest entertainment was from Charles whose eyebrows arched when he opened the plain brown box to be greeted by three pairs of full, sweet breasts with areolas, three with candy nipples. And then he devoured one even before Beryl departed!

"That contributed to your current situation, but I think the issue began well before Beryl's pudding delivery." She paused then sighed, "Well, you best go see John so you can be dressed properly for the match." The charity match was now less than two weeks away.

"I wonder if they can replace the zipper whilst I wait."

"Zipper! Your trousers are as tight as my corset, Mr. Carson! You best plan to buy a whole new - bigger - pair."


	71. Chapter 71: Howl at the Moon

Friday, 21 September 2018

The eve of the Autumnal Equinox saw many "Last Summer Nights" celebrations scheduled throughout London. Becky had mentioned one on Tuesday whilst Charles had gone to purchase a new pair of Cricket whites from John Bates. She had practically begged Elsie if they might all go; Elsie's immediate noncommittal answer was based on uncertainty of how she would be feeling and how well her one week follow-up would go with Dr. Kuragin.

As the days passed, Elsie felt stronger, with less discomfort and she was sleeping better, giving her confidence that the follow-up would be fine. Then there was Charles.

Ever since Tuesday morning's trouble with the zipper, he'd been back to swimming laps or riding his bike, at least one intense hour daily in a quest to narrow his waistline. Elsie knew he was not one to do anything by halves but she found it a little over the top, everything else in his wardrobe fit just fine. Besides, both their fitness levels had improved with all the times they'd raised their heart rates together.

On Thursday night, after Charles and Elsie had gone to bed and were settling toward slumber, Elsie brought up Becky's wish and that she thought she'd be up for it. He wasn't near as excited at the prospect, but then, he had been neither a teenage nor adolescent female in the mid-70s. And so, pending how Elsie was doing, he agreed to take them.

10:45 am

"Well?"

Charles took Becky's question as an inquiry of Elsie's well-being but Elsie knew her sister better than that. Becky was asking more about their evening plans. "I think we're going." Becky literally squealed aloud, a shrill noise to Charles and Violet's ears. "I hope you have some hair pomade and black jeans, Mr. Carson - a little snug will be just fine in this case."

Charles arched his left eyebrow; he didn't know if that was a snide remark or otherwise. Either way, they were going to an outdoor Sing-A-Long-A GREASE!

Summer Nights indeed!

5:15 pm

Like many others, they would dress up. They'd swung by both Becky and Elsie's so the two would have long swing skirts; Becky put her hair in a pony tail and then helped Elsie with hers. When he realized how the Hughes sisters were getting into the spirit, Charles dug a vintage black tuxedo complete with cummerbund and frilly dark pink shirt from his closet. Elsie who was expecting black jeans that she knew fit just fine, was thrilled by her Curmudgeon's indulging her and Becky and charmed by the too short trousers that showed off matching pink socks. Charles had also greased his hair back a la a T-Bird. He came out of the bedroom twirling around, hopping on one foot. "Will I do, Elsie? Becky?"

"Will you do? Very much so, Mr. Carson!" When he stopped due to dizziness, he smiled at the pleasure he could see on both their faces at his efforts. "Where in the world is that from?"

"Ah, some costume party Alice and I had gone to."

"Who's Alice?" Becky asked.

"Charlie's wife," Elsie answered without a moment's hesitation.

"Charlie's _wife_!? But I want _you_ to be his wife!"

6:50 pm

Until then, they'd never even thought of the need to explain about Alice. With a history briefing, Becky had calmed by the time they'd left for the movie. In the South Bank Tower lift, lobby and on the walk over, they received many compliments on their attire. Charles even asked that night's door person Sam to photograph them together.

They'd booked lawn seating with picnic and blanket which Charles had spread out for them. After the ladies came back from the toilets, Charles took his turn. When he returned carrying not one but two bags of blue candy floss he'd seen at the concession stand, he actually had two squealing Hughes sisters who welcomed him back to their blanket.

Elsie thanked him for that kindness and all the others of the evening with a deep kiss and warm embrace and then offered him a bite. As usual, he declined - this time in favor of the bag of grapes he had brought to nibble on.

The entertainment began at sundown when the host led the hundreds in the audience in a vocal warm-up and showed them how to use the interactive prop bags. He and his "Sandy" then taught the audience how to hand jive. Of course, Elsie and Becky knew from decades ago. Elsie refrained though, it was too much movement for her in her corset and so she encouraged Becky, clumsy as her hand jive was, to help teach Charles.

As the movie began, Elsie sat between her two loves and again offered Charles her candy floss. Although he turned that sweet offer down, he accepted another when she reached for his hand during _Hopelessly Devoted to You._ And he didn't let it go.

Until _Born to Hand Jive_ began and he let his inhibitions go as he stood up and danced with Becky Hughes, pulling her into a warm embrace and kissing her temple when the song ended. The whole thing earned them applause from hen parties near them.

As the temperature dropped and Elsie was feeling chilled, Charles invited her to come sit on his lap which she did, gladly. Of course she and Becky knew all the lyrics to all the songs but Charles took special pride when she turned in his arms and serenaded him during _You're The One That I Want._ It prompted him to swallow hard before they ended the song with another deep kiss which Becky noted joyfully.

10:20 pm

They'd returned to Charles's flat just before 9:30, Elsie yawning from all the fresh air and extra exertion of singing and laughing. When he returned from walking the dogs, Elsie and Becky were each dressed in old t-shirts of Charles's and huddled in the guest room. After Becky warmly thanked Charles for their wonderful evening, Charles and Elsie bid goodnight. Charles was keen to remove the pomade from his hair. As he tucked into the shower, Elsie crawled into bed. She couldn't keep her eyes open and fell asleep with the light on which Charles discovered when he turned the corner in shorts and t-shirt of his own. He stopped then, admiring the Pink Lady asleep in his bed. Becky's unadulterated, "I want _you_ to be his wife!" comment ran through his mind as, smiling, he began to hum _You're The One That I_ Want, climbing in beside Elsie.


	72. Chapter 72: Old Yeller

A/N: Cheers and thanks to all contributing to unofficialdas9 starting today! YotD isn't part of it, but maybe next year I'll contribute…oh yeah, we'll all be watching the movie then!

CECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

Sunday, 23 September 2018

Elsie deemed yesterday a good day for a drive to Brighton. Becky loved it there, hadn't been all season, and yet, moving forward, the opportunities were minimal; next weekend, they'd all three be busy with the cricket festivities.

Becky and Elsie had sung along to the GREASE soundtrack the whole way down, amusing Charles. If there was any doubt about the choice to attend the Sing-A-Long on Friday, this had settled it for him; Elsie appeared as carefree as he could recall. And yet, work was looming in the background. She had kept all her bookings for the coming week and was determined to go to the office. He wasn't happy about it but realized it was one argument he would lose, yet still seek to set some of the terms.

Along with the two dogs, the three had taken a long walk on the beach, Elsie and Charles hand in hand. Charles had brought Igor's ball launcher on this trip and as Elsie had gotten past Igor's skunking of months ago, he later tossed balls into the surf that Igor and Violet chased after – a rare chance at recreation for her. Charles also brought his pizza stone and ingredients for their supper. Between the food and the exercise, it spelled a quiet, restful evening for all– precisely his plan.

Earlier today, eying some of Harold's keepsakes that were simply collecting dust, Elsie texted Martha inquiring whether she might include them in next weekend's silent auction.

 _Nice of you to ask first!_

Elsie read the between-the-lines sarcasm.

 _Could you at least come and ask in person?!_

Restfulness was suddenly tossed out with the rubbish.

It _had_ been several weeks since Elsie had been to Times of Endearment and Martha was clearly disappointed so after dropping off Becky and Violet, they'd drive to Martha's.

5:20 pm

Charles took Elsie's hand in the car park, the tension evident in her fingers. "Need I remind you, she's an old woman and you should still be taking it easy."

"I know, Charlie," she squeezed his hand in return and held her chin high.

They found Martha in her room, reading in her chair.

"Look what the cat dragged in," she put the bookaside and made it clear she expected a kiss on the cheek – from the both of them.

Momentarily, they stood awkwardly until Charles asked, "May we sit?"

Martha gestured to the sofa. "So, how's the summer? Oh that's right, summer's over! How _was_ it?"

"Martha, you know how it was, I've kept you apprised of all including my surgery."

Martha looked over at her, the first sign of backing down. "They look good – you look good. Charles, it appears you're taking good care of our lass. Thank you."

He cleared his throat, "My pleasure."

"Charlie has gone above and beyond in being good to me. And, as much as I love all that he's done for me, he's been good to Becky, too. This whole charity cricket match is for her. I'm just sorry I haven't been able to be of more assistance."

"You're going back to work tomorrow?" Elsie nodded. "You work too hard."

Charles harrumphed then; it was a point he'd been impressing on her for weeks. Elsie glared at him, "I didn't say it," he pointed out raising his hands in a gesture of innocence.

Elsie rolled her eyes, caught between the two. "Go check on the dog and bring that box in, please."

The two women watched him leave. No sooner was Charles out the door than Martha leaned toward Elsie and winked, "Speaking of hard, how's the sex?"


	73. Chapter 73: Pee

Friday, 28 September 2018

6:45 am

He felt her scoot from the bed. Without a word exchanged, he rose and made his way to the refrigerator to retrieve her orange collection container.

"Elsie." He surprised her as he entered the en suite and she nearly spilled the specimen from the collector that she'd lifted from the toilet rim when she was finished.

Before they'd left Martha's on Sunday, Elsie promised she would finally proceed with the additional testing advised after her kidney stone episode. From the second time she'd urinated yesterday through the first time today, she had to catch all the urine her body passed and transfer it into the medical container, storing the whole thing in the refrigerator until it could be dropped off to Grigg's office, before noon, for analysis to help her avoid future stones.

Steadying herself, she sighed tenderly, "Charlie, you're just too good to be true." She'd said as much yesterday evening too when he met her at the office to carry her laptop bag home over his shoulder, and, discretely in a reusable shopping bag, the then half-full container.

He yawned. "I told you at bedtime to wake me. But now you're done, so pour in the rest and I'll return it." He twisted off the lid, near which he'd printed her name in permanent marker. Container resealed, he lifted it off the counter, "Hughes, Elspeth, I think you're an over-achiever: two liters! Fantastic, love!" He bent down appealing for a kiss.

"Oh, get away with ye!"

After washing her hands, she was crawling back under the covers when she heard Charles raise his voice from the other room, "Off, Igor! Now!"

Momentarily, he returned, scratching at the front of his boxers and muttering, "Thinks he's a damn Wegman dog, climbing up on the Selva sofa."

As she welcomed Charles back to bed, Elsie cautioned, "At least he didn't wee on it." Immediately, Charles scrambled to make sure that wasn't the case.

As the morning wore on, Charles swam laps and later loaded the car with their valises and Harold's box from the cottage. All along, Elsie sat at his desk catching up on her work diary and various reports. As he'd showered and dressed, she was still working away.

11:00 am

"Elsie, we've got to go – now – or we risk missing Grigg's pick up time. You don't want to have to spend another day collecting do you?"

"No, no." She shut the laptop and stepped away. He was pleased, not only did it signal she was leaving work behind for the weekend, but that she intended to come back here with him. Truthfully, it was ever more rare that she, they, were at her house. "I'll tackle emails on my mobile in the car." He groaned his disappointment at that. "Bags are down already. You have everything you need, Captain Carson?"

He held out his left arm, the one that was holding her "thermos," checked his wrist, breast and trouser pockets, "Testicles, spectacles, wallet, watch and mobile. Yes, everything."

She giggled, "What's all this?"

"Just my daily recitation; ensuring I have everything I need before stepping out the door."

" _Daily_?"

He nodded. The things she was still learning about him!

After dropping off her specimen, picking up Becky and a stop for lunch to break up the drive, Elsie casually revisited her emails, pleased to be progressing through the backlog. And then she read one sender's name that nearly made her pee in her pants. An email from Joe Burns – not unwelcome per se, just completely unexpected. Oblivious to the real reason behind it, Charles was pleased she finally stashed her mobile in her purse.

3:00 pm

They'd arrived at Robert and Cora's, introducing Becky and Violet to his long-time friends. Becky was shown to her room upstairs and assured that yes, Violet, Igor _and_ Isis could all sleep with her. It sounded like pure hell to Elsie, heaven to Becky.

Robert explained to Charles the two of them needed to dash to the Abbey where the pitch was being set up. "Do you need to hit the head?"

"No, I'm good for now."

Noticing her husband's disappointment, Cora piped in, "Oh for God's sake, Robert, there'll be plenty of opportunities for your little project."

"Of course, why do you think we're having the after-party here as opposed to at the pub?"

Cora shook her head, "Just leave for the Abbey. We'll see you back before dinner." Then turning on her heel, she mouthed, "Men!"

9:30 pm

"Are you alright?" Elsie whispered peeling her eyes off the fire.

"Perfectly. Why do you ask?" He returned to her side in the parlor, arm around her shoulders.

"Well, you keep saying you need some 'fresh air' and yet, maybe I'm extra conscious because of my recent experience, but have you used the toilet since we arrived?"

He pecked her on the cheek, "Yes…and I'll tell you later." He frowned, "Are _you_ alright?"

Seeing Cora returning she replied, "Like you said, I'll tell you later."

10:45 pm

He'd had plenty to drink– wine with dinner and then the good Scotch. She had her first since surgery. "Well?" Door shut to the guest suite, she was already in bed reading, unable to ignore Joe's email any longer.

He sat down beside her, one leg tucked under the other. "Ham has bought himself a new copper mailbox."

"So?"

"He wants to accelerate the oxidation process."

"And?"

"There are chemicals in urine that react with copper. He's asked me to help him along." She wasn't following. "I've been stepping outside to piss on the mailbox."

"I hope it's not installed at the end of the driveway for all and sundry to see you standing out there!"

"Get away with you, it's not installed yet! Like Ham said, it's partly why everyone's invited here tomorrow night, rather than just in the village."

"As Cora said, 'Men!'"

He stood up then, unbuttoning his shirt. "Now, what were you going to tell me?"

She sighed, "This," holding up her mobile.

"What?" She looked pensive, then took a deep breath.

"Remember you asked me, about who _my first_ was?"

He stilled, "Joe?"

"Aye, Joe. Joseph Burns the third, of Argyll Scotland. He wrote me, out of the blue today. He, uh, he saw my name in one of the national directories for Family Therapy. He has an adult son who's moved to London, needs some professional help. Wonders if I might see the lad."


	74. Chapter 74: Clean Bowl

A/N1: Response to a couple of reviews from Ch 73: Charles's checklist is a ritual of many men and even included in some movie dialog (e.g. Nuns on the Run, Austin Powers, and Gran Torino). As for peeing on copper, I learned that one from a dear friend of mine a decade ago; he'd recruited his son to help.

A/N2: My cricket knowledge is minimal - thank God for the internet! Forgive any glaring mistakes - I welcome coaching!

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

Saturday, 29 September 2018

6:55 am

A comfortably cool, slightly overcast early autumn day was dawning – perfect for cricketers and spectators alike. It's what Charles and Elsie woke to – as well as three medium-large dogs racing one another down a grand staircase. "Oh my, they're a thundering herd!" she yawned then kissed him good morning, lasciviously. Rubbing his belly and then down lower, she extracted her tongue from his mouth and spoke hungrily, "Is that your bat, Mr. Carson?" He groaned in her ear as she fondled him. "Oh, no, too flat. I've learnt my cricket and it must be one of the stumps – topped by two balls!"

" _Bails_ , Elsie. Three stumps topped by two _bails_ make a wicket." He began nibbling on her earlobe as one of the dogs barked, undoubtedly Igor. Disappointed, Charles grimaced, "I best go rescue them."

They heard a single set of heavier steps and Robert's muted voice followed by the slider door in the parlor, looked at one another and hope returned.

"Stay a while, rescue _me_. It's been two weeks."

"It's been 15 days and 8 hours." Elsie awkwardly shifted herself to an upright position, straddling his torso. "Are you certain this is a good idea, that you should?"

"I want to do everything I can to help my man win today," she craned her neck to meet his lips again then inched the hem of his t-shirt up.

Gently shifting his weight to and fro, he shed his shorts as Elsie moved her hips so her bare bottom pressed against his erection. Remembering his embarrassment at overhearing Robert and Cora's Easter morning activities, he asked that she be just as quiet as possible as he thumbed her still-corseted chest.

Twenty minutes later, she collapsed beside him, his left forearm draped across his forehead as he admitted, "If I let the team down today, it's all because of you." He laced the fingers of his right hand through hers that were now at his side.

"So be it," she replied, completely sated.

11:20 am

Hours before the match began, they drove over to the Abbey, Elsie's first glimpse of the impressive structure in person. Workers had hung a large banner with Becky's cricket drawing over the driveway entrance, prompting her to beam. As the workers finish erecting bleachers, Cora directs volunteers - mainly spouses of the village team's members - as they display silent auction items under one of the tents. They three poke in, marveling at the variety and quality of the donations. Cora points out that the other tent nearest the pitch is reserved seating for players' family members. "Elsie, Becky, you'll find your names on two of the prime seats, near me and mama as well as Beryl and others. Charles, maybe they'd like a personal tour of the Abbey?"

They approach the building's front double doors and give the guard their names; he's expecting them and allows them to enter unsupervised. Elsie is in awe of the raw beauty and the simple fact that she is standing in the exact spot she'd seen on six years of ITV television. Standing in the middle of the Great Hall, looking up at the massive arches, Elsie tells Charles excitedly, "It's stunning Charlie, stunning!" He enjoys seeing this place he knows so well through fresh eyes.

They go downstairs then, as Charles is needing to prepare for the match. Charles had asked his team to arrive by 12:30 in order to take luncheon together inside the makeshift dressing room in the bowels of the Abbey and then take the pitch for warmups before the 2:00 start. The caterers are setting up the hot buffet in the kitchen so Charles shares a brief peek of the Butler's Pantry and Housekeeper's Sitting Room, both of which feel homey to Elsie.

"Well, I guess that's it for now, Charlie. We'll leave you to get ready. See you on the pitch, my dear. Make us proud." Charles smiles, sheepishly. This is going to be a good day. Elsie cups his cheek and gives him a good luck kiss, Becky adds a hug and, "Go Cheerful Charlies!" He directs them outdoors through the servants' entrance suggesting as the players arrive, it would be best to steer them this way.

Elsie enjoys greeting The Cheerful Charlies. She and Becky thank them all for their generosity in giving up their weekends in the name of Special Olympics. All say it's their pleasure - those who know them adore Elsie and Becky and recognize a good cause. Charles's former colleagues have deep regard for him and are delighted to help out too. All appreciate the social connection the team gatherings have afforded them.

Moving closer to the pitch, Elsie spots Robert, Tom and those whom she assumes to be the other members of "Robert's Rogues" because, save for Tom, all are wearing their cricket whites. They file into the servants' entrance to also share luncheon and Elsie and Becky welcome female friends Beryl, Lavinia, Ivy and Evelyn, Daisy, the Molesleys, and Isobel. Whilst Elsie was speechless, Beryl is a chatterbox, prattling on about all things DOWNTON ABBEY. The other women are fans, but one would think Beryl's life depended on it. "Did you hear the rumor of a movie?!"

Before it's time for Elsie to help with ticket sales or the others to tour the Abbey's interior, the women opt for a walk around the grounds together. Beryl continues on, sounding as if she was born and raised here, she knows so much about the place - as told through the lens of the television series, of course. "That way to the stables, over there the Folly..." Elsie blocks out her voice after a time and then declares she really should get to the ticket table, she's starting to see cars arriving.

1:30 pm

Elsie looks up from the till when a swath of white emerges from a corner of the house - both teams are approaching the pitch. It takes her back some 30 years; she remembers being infatuated with the American actor Kevin Costner and watching his movie FIELD OF DREAMS. The cricketers right now remind her of those scenes where the "dead" baseball players emerge from the cornfield. In the center of it all, taller than most, she spots Charles and her breath hitches. All the players look handsome, but him especially so. Against the contrast of his all white clothing, his hands, forearms, neck and face look especially tan, his hair darker than she's realized. The cabled slipover broadens his shoulders and his white trousers - that fit - sway casually as he strides toward the pitch. In total, he's caused her to forget the patron standing before her. "Ma'am?" the man finally interrupts.

"Pardon me, I'm dating the captain of the visitor's team," she beams and points to direct the man's attention. She bites down on her lip then to keep from smiling so much. When it's near time for the match to begin, she makes her way to her chair under the tent. Charles and Robert, the two team captains, speak with the umpires, Thomas Barrow and Sergeant Willis before the toss, presenting their team's batting orders and agreeing to Limited Overs of 30 per side. Reverend Travis, who will be keeping score and announcing the match, is there too as they discuss the ground rules. Cora joins the ladies as Charles and Robert shake hands. As he walks toward his team, Charles spots Elsie sitting under the tent, points directly at her and winks. She blows him a kiss and waves back, she's so proud of him already and hopeful he'll do well.

2:00 pm

As Robert's team takes the pitch, Cora leans over and explains who all they are: of course Elsie knows Tom, and Daniel and Atticus Aldridge who are here from Sinderby's. Henry owns the local car dealership; Murray is the village solicitor; John Darnley a former neighbour; Tim Drewe a current one. Septimus Sprat is the town gossip; Evelyn Napier and Bertie Pelham grew up here and dated Cora's girls; Patrick Gordon is not her favourite, but like Archie Patmore on Charles's team, he's the youngster added for athleticism. And then there's Hugh MacClare, Edith's Godfather, whom Shrimpie was named after. Like Charles's team, 11 starters and two alternates.

Henry Talbot is Robert's team's first bowler and he faces opener Tony Gillingham who hits a quick single.

William bats next facing Tim Drewe, Beryl encourages her granddaughters to pay attention, "Cheer for daddy, girls! And granddad will be up to bat soon." William plays instinctively and well, he's just rusty. Then again, so is Drewe who is experimenting some to figure out what's working in his delivery today. Beryl's trained eye recognizes he's a quick bowler but when he continues mixing it up against William, she yells out "Hey bowler, this is village cricket - enough with the fruit salad, let 'im hit the red cherry!"

Elsie looks over at her friend seated beside her, shocked. "I see it didn't take long for you to get riled up, now did it?" Beryl shrugged her shoulders unapologetically.

Beryl stands up as Bill follows his son up to bat. "Come on Bill, I want to get to an Abbey tour, let's give it some Humpty!"

As she sits down again and gathers Ivy in her lap whilst Evelyn is in Lavinia's, Elsie shakes her head, "I have no idea what you just said, but you seem to be some sort of expert, how is it I never knew?"

"Hang around cricketers and cricket matches as long as I have and it's bound to happen. You just watch, it'll happen to you with your Charlie-boy."

A couple other batsmen follow successfully and then Charles strides up in his pads, bat under his arm. "C'mob, Charlie-boy, this bloke's a dibbly dobbly! Rotate the strike and keep the picket fence going! Show Elsie how good you can whack it!"

"How well, Beryl, how well," he corrects her grammar. He smiles, confidently then. After some chin music from Henry, Charles does better than Beryl asked, hitting a slog that results in a four!

Every time Beryl yells out - which is often - more and more of the crowd take note of the feisty red head under the tent. "Beryl," Elsie whispers, you're starting to embarrass me. Keep it down some."

The route continues through the heart of the batting order before the tail-enders - most notably Joe Molesley who's trying hard hacks away and it's time to switch sides. A jubilant Beryl hopping on her tiny feet decries, "Ha! We got us a pongo!"

"Beryl!" Elsie is on her again, "How about you quietly teach me a little rather than stirring something up!"

"Oh, all right."

When the Cheerful Charlies take the pitch, Charles bowls first, to Bertie Pelham. Beryl recognizes quickly he's a chest on with a big breaking cutter which he relies on heavily. As Bertie goes down swinging, Beryl whistles under her breath, impressed, telling Elsie, "He's got a good Bunsen!"

Elsie is completely clueless what her Bunsen reference is, but as Charles trots away to a spot behind the popping crease, Elsie notes to herself that he's got good buns!

Tony Gillingham and James Dawes are the other bowlers on Charles's team. In time, Beryl assessment is the former can bowl peaches, whilst the latter who first shows a sign of the yips soon demonstrates he can throw an impressive carrom. His first results in a duck against Hugh MacClare while Charles lets go an occasional corker. Beryl's lessons are lost on Elsie, what she can see for herself though is that all three bowlers for Charles's team are economical, and most importantly Charles himself is laughing and having fun. Further evidence of that comes when Duke Painswick "shells a dolly" off Tom's bat and Charles and Robert, both with broad smiles on their faces, engage in some sledging about which team Duke is trying to help win.

The women peel away from the action for an Abbey tour when the teams take drinks.

Eventually, Charles's team's tail wags the third and final time through the order, putting them in a good position to win the match, to the point where Charles actually makes a ballsy declaration to close the inning.

With Dawes bowling in the bottom half of the frame, Beryl notices a foul, "LBW, Charlie, LBW!" Charles appeals to the umpires, Thomas and Willis confer and Evelyn Napier is ruled out, a tough break for the Rogues. Then with Tony Gillingham pitching to Robert, he hits it in Charles's direction who uses his powerful voice to call, "Mine!"; despite the announcement, Archie Patmore - who has not played as well as usual - collides with Charles. Charles still catches it and they take a moment to sort themselves out. One more batter, and it's Charles who bowls to Patrick Gordon. The youngster is no match for Charles who finishes him off with a clean bowl!

The final result has The Cheerful Charlies clearly defeat Robert's Rogues. Players and umpires alike line up to shake hands and then the celebration begins. Charles smiles triumphantly to Elsie and Becky who are clapping wildly as the teams head back to the Abbey.

A few minutes later, they re-emerge, Charles and Robert are the last two out, each still wearing their cricket whites but carrying their cleats by the shoestrings as they stroll side-by-side back across the pitch.


	75. Chapter 75: Dog Leg Left

Saturday, 29 September 2018

6:55 pm

Charles had slumped down in the passenger seat on the ride back to Robert and Cora's. He was thrilled with the victory but craved rest though the day's festivities were far from over. The events team had moved in whilst all were at the Abbey, a large tent set up for a players and loved ones reception at Robert and Cora's. Shuttles would bring them from home or the Inn beginning at 7:30 with a string of returns thereafter until the last guests departed.

Robert dashed upstairs to shower. Cora and Elsie huddled in the parlor tallying the winning auction bids; they would notify the winners in the morning. Charles limped into the guest suite. Sometime later when Robert had already come and gone, Elsie began to wonder where Charles was and finally excused herself to check.

"Charlie?" The en suite's door was open and light on, so he must be in there. "Charlie?" She approached gingerly until she heard a low moan and quickened her step. She found him – or rather his body – flat on the floor in nothing but a jockstrap and socks, his shoes beside him, white trousers, shirt and slipover crumpled on the counter. "Charlie!" she knelt down, worried, "Speak to me!" She shook his shoulder.

"Elsie," he groaned.

"Oh my God, Charlie! Do we need an ambulance?"

"Elsie, no. I'll be okay." He groaned again as he slowly moved to prop himself up on his elbows. "I've just played the cricket match of my life, but I'm sore – from that one rib tickler during my last at-bat and then getting tangled up with Archie, I must have hurt my leg. I felt it go on my final run-up. You might have noticed the ball didn't have quite the bite toward the end and me not the follow through." He frowned.

"When I found you lying here, I thought you had a heart attack!"

"Sorry, the cool floor was so inviting I couldn't resist and then I closed my eyes."

"Where does it hurt?" He pointed to his left inner thigh. "You need heat to loosen up your muscles, not cool. I'll draw a bath. You can sit in there and get yourself cleaned up at the same time." She turned then and put the faucet on. He'd maneauvered himself to lean back against the wall. "Can you get up?" He could, albeit slowly. She helped him then, to take off his remaining clothing and climb in. He sighed as the water surrounded him, hot and welcoming. "I want you to soak there for a while. I'll get you clean shorts, trousers and a shirt out and ask Cora if she has any liniment."

Twenty minutes later, after scrubbing his back, she helped him towel off. He put his shorts on and then Elsie had him lean against the counter as she knelt and rubbed the liniment into his sore thigh. "Does this mean you love me?" he teased.

She snorted at that. "Ye old booby, this just means you need me."

"Elsie?" She looked up at him and saw a serious expression, "I do need you."

7:35 pm

Tom had arrived, he was staying at Maggie's and drove her, Rosamund and Duke over. "Mrs. Carson – oh, sorry. I seem to have done it again."

"And I seem to have to tell you to just call me Elsie, again."

He smiled, sheepishly. "Elsie, it's good to see you. I bring you greetings from Sybil and Sybbie, along with this – for you." It was a drawing of Igor that Sybbie sent.

"Thank you, Tom. How are they? I bet you're missing them. When do they arrive?" He'd moved back, two weeks ago to start his new job and was staying with Rosamund and Duke.

"I do, terribly. The first weekend in November; Sybbie's negotiation tactic. She didn't want to miss Halloween in Boston – in part because she has a dog costume to wear."

7:45 pm

The party was underway outside –there was a band, buffet, and open seating under the tent, and signage for his and hers toilets – hers pointed inside, his around a dark corner of the house where a copper mailbox rested atop some gravel.

When the band took its break at 9:00 there were prizes to be awarded. For his two Hat Tricks, Tony Gillingham won Pick of the Bowlers. Atticus Aldridge and his father had left right after the match yet he was awarded Best Swing. Robert took great pride in building up to the award honouring "the highest scoring batsman, _and_ today's leading wicket taker. A part of me wishes to say I don't know what's gotten into my dear friend, but that's not true. It's Ms. Elsie Hughes who has helped make him The Man of the Match: Mr. Charles Carson!"

Charles slowly and humbly walked up to accept the trophy and then roared with laughter when he saw what it was, an upside down athletic cup with two red cricket balls mounted inside. "Oh, Ham!"

Later, when the band started up again, Robert invited Elsie to dance. She stayed out there as a long line of Cheerful Charlies took to the dance floor. Charles danced one dance with Maggie until Tom cut in and then he sat down to rest his leg. Eventually, Elsie came up behind him as he set his wine glass down beside his trophy.

She draped her arms over his shoulders, leaning down to kiss his temple. "Helluva trophy, Charlie. Is it going to sit next to your stuffed trout and birthday portrait?"

"Yes, probably, unless you'd like to keep it in your office since Ham thinks you helped me win it."

"Well, beyond the play; if I were handing out awards, I would give you Best in Show today."

"Hmm, liked me in my cricket whites, did you?"

"Yes, but even more so lying on the floor – once I knew you were not dying!"

"Flatterer…"


	76. Chapter 76: Bones, Unburied

Sunday, 30 September 2018

Cora was the first up and about, Becky next and the two got to know one another better over cocoa. Becky went on to read the Sunday funnies whilst Cora emailed the winners of the silent auction prizes.

Elsewhere, the rooms at the Inn were full up with Cheerful Charlies, the proprietors appreciative of the business, the guests appreciative of the Granthams picking up their lodging and meals including this morning's breakfast.

The Red Lion's dining space has been transformed into the Red Cherry Room.  
Elsie, Charles, Becky, Robert and Cora skipped church services to partake in the hot meal. In two vehicles, they'd brought along the auction items whose top bidders stayed here overnight and Cora announced they'd be distributed when everyone was done eating.

9:30 am  
Charles cleared his plate and finished Elsie's remaining bites when offered. Thumbing his collar during a brief tete a tete, she asks if they might take a quick drive back to the Abbey, so she can see it without all the cricket pomp. "Of course - just please don't ask me to climb too many stairs."

"Not to worry, Mr. Carson, no trips up to the attics today." She stood up then, she'd discussed with Cora their potentially leaving the breakfast early.

"Does Becky want to go?"

"No, we can leave her here with Beryl and the others, we won't be long. Charlie, you best use the loo here, there's no mailbox at the Abbey," she sniggered, to hide her anxiousness.

Whilst he's momentarily away, she introduces herself to the Inn's manager at the front desk.

When he returns, Charles notes the small bouquet of fall flowers - one of the table arrangements - in her hand. "What's this?"

She winks at the manager, out of Charles's line of sight. "Cora ordered them special and they're free. And so pretty I decided to take one."

"Don't you want to leave them until we return?"

"No, I fear others may claim them in the meantime."

9:59 am

"Well, there she is, Elsie, the grande dame, Miss Abbey as I call her."

"Lovely. Let's get out and walk a bit." He nods and parks.

Church bells ring in the top of the hour as she comes around to his side, flowers behind her back as she reaches up and strokes his cheek, he feels her hand shake every so slightly. "What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing, Charlie." Her voice quivers, "Nothing at all is wrong, it's perfect, you're practically. It's just…Maggie told me last night of something that I didn't fully see here yesterday - and wish to."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Alice's grave."

He stiffens and she reaches out, preoccupied with his collar once again. "I spotted the family plot from one of the upstairs windows yesterday and Maggie told me last night that Alice is there too. I had no idea."

He looks up and away, holding back tears, "She is."

"Take me to her, please, I…these are for her, as a thank you...for gifting me with her wonderful husband, widower, and in her own words from that wonderful letter that Cora and Maggie and the others delivered to me 'a jumpstart' for all the things there are to love about you, Charlie."

He was touched, truly, and reached out for her hand and brought it to his lips. "Don't believe everything you read, Elsie."

She looked at him dubiously, then handed him the flowers to hold as she fished her mobile out from her purse. She scrolled until she found what she was looking for and then read aloud to him.

" _He is a striking "Winter" with salt-and-pepper hair, an ever-errant curl and chestnut eyes. Accordingly, he looks amazing in his cricket whites."_

" _I hope he…doesn't drag you to every cricket match in the Commonwealth."_

"Among other pearls of wisdom she shared." After tucking her mobile away, Elsie reaches up to his hand that is holding the flowers.

"I want to bring her these, Charlie, a small gesture of appreciation."

He nodded his understanding and then raised his other hand to take Elsie's and led her to the plot, straight to Alice's headstone. They stood there, side by side, facing the headstone, silently for sometime before Elsie, softly, said, "I think we would have gotten on famously." She turned to him then.

He clears his throat. "I rather like to think so. Thank you, Elsie, for this, for these." He held the flowers up then and she places them at the base of the stone, before brushing her hand over its façade. Charles follows her, kissing his fingertips then touching them to the top of the stone. In that moment, he thought to himself, I'm one lucky man.

"If you're ready, Charlie?"

He nodded and turned away, leading Elsie back to the car, a sense of peace and completeness surrounding him.

10:30 am

They returned to the heart of the village and walked into the restaurant. "Oh good, they're back," Cora noted. She was speaking intently with Simon Bricker over the auction paperwork. "Elsie, it seems our bookkeeping was a little off last night."

"Oh, how so?"

"Mr. Bricker's bid for Becky's drawing that you donated, that I had framed." Cora looked over at Simon then, the paperwork in her ahnd. "I was so charmed by the drawing I wanted it – badly. But it seems Mr. Bricker did too. You see there's a problem – a very good problem – we overlooked a zero in his bid."

Simon stood up straighter then. "Elsie – your sister's drawing is extraordinary, and I'm delighted to say it's now mine. I just have two questions: To whom do I make out the cheque? And, does she have an agent?"


	77. Chapter 77: Pick of the Litter

Sunday, 7 October 2018

4:50 pm

"Twas very kind of you to abstain from the chocolate cake today - in a sign of solidarity, Charlie."

He looked over at her, arching his eyebrows as they strolled hand in hand and he took another lick of his coconut ice. "Yes, well, I hope you know by now, I'd do anything for you."

"I had a pretty good idea before today, but when you declined Thomas's offer of pure decadence, you made my heart skip a beat. You know what would seal it for me, though?"

"Hmmm?"

She pointed at his cone then and licked her lips. He shook his head, stopped then and held the cone out for Elsie who took one large bite. "And I thought you didn't want any. If I'd known we'd be sharing, I'd have ordered a second scoop."

"Oh, you can be sure I'll always ask you to share - just not the chocolate or nut variety any longer." Grigg had her lab results back - she undoubtedly had suffered the most common type of kidney stone - calcium-oxalate - given her oxalate level was over 3x higher than the "normal" range. Since she still needed calcium, she'd have to greatly reduce her oxalate intake if she intended to avoid future stones. So no spinach, beets, blueberries, nuts, or chocolate. Heartbreaking.

"I'll remember that next time we stop for an ice and I need to choose my flavour."

"This from the man who not two weeks ago was focused solely on salad after his 20 year old trousers wouldn't zip."

"Okay, truce. Why waste a beautiful afternoon bickering like an old married couple."

It was a beautiful afternoon, a bit of crispness to the air but the real first sign of autumn truly being upon them was being invited to traditional Sunday Roast - downstairs at Simon and Thomas's. Simon had been quite serious asking last week if Becky had an agent. She thought it preposterous to even say but Cora corroborated that Becky seemed to have genuine, natural artistic talent. Cora had asked Becky to draw something that morning and was impressed. Later, when they'd dropped Becky off at home that day, they'd casually asked her for some of her drawings, for no particular reason. And Charles had found those she'd drawn at his flat a few months ago.

To humour them both, Charles had snapped a dozen or so of the better ones and sent them to Simon and Cora who began raving at the sight of them.

They'd accepted the invitation to Roast oblivious until they arrived that another couple would be there - gallery owner Rita Bevan and her husband Hugo. Though not an agent, Rita was a friend of Simon's and owner of her own SoHo gallery. She fell in love with Becky's work immediately and wanted to meet her and put on a show of her work. This became clear after pudding was served - the one they'd both declined.

In the kitchen, Thomas confided to Charles that he knew Rita to be a tough negotiator, who wouldn't take no for an answer. Knowing Elsie could be a Scottish dragon, Charles didn't like where this was possibly headed. Elsie thought surely disclosing that Becky had a disability would curtail the nonsense. Oh no, that just lit Rita's imagination all the more. Rita recalled a friend and fellow art lover on the spot who represents other artists with disabilities. Would Elsie - and Becky - consider partaking in a joint exhibit - for profit, of course.

It was a lot to take in suddenly and for once, Elsie was glad to have the excuse of a dog who needed to be walked. Thomas left with them, adding his two cents that this could be a very good and lucrative thing. That just confused Elsie all the more and thus Thomas suggested they go take a nice walk, alone, whilst he would take care of Igor for a few hours.

They walked to Battersea, just like old times. It's where Charles bought ice and where, after having some time to think, Elsie admitted her concerns were two fold - that she was in completely unknown territory here and she didn't want anything ANYTHING in the way of publicity that might pull Richard Carlisle out of the woodwork and back into her life.

He kissed her tenderly then, cementing in her mind what it meant to have Charles, a good, strong, and decent man in her life.

When they returned to pick up Igor, Elsie told Simon to relay a message to Rita - that she was thinking about her proposal.


	78. Red Rover Red Rover Joe's Coming Over

Thursday, 11 October 2018

4:50 pm

Bugger. Group was beginning soon. But this in the meantime, just now.

Elsie dialed and Charles picked up on the second ring. "Hello, beautiful."

She half-smiled as she held her head. "Charlie, instead of meeting me after group, I'll take a taxi. It would be bloody brilliant if you'd have dinner on and cold drink poured for me."

"Sure, what"s your fancy? Pimm's? G&T? Wine?" already looking in the fridge.

"No, my smoothie."

She'd spoken with Isobel about Chinese herbs and concocted a reasonable facsimile of the Sex on the Lido which Charles was preparing for her most mornings with berries as it held mutual benefits.

Something in her voice made him stop. "Elsie, love, what's wrong?"

"Joe, Joe Burns is coming to town. Tomorrow. He asked if we might have dinner together."


	79. Chapter 79: Great Dane and Clifford

Friday, 12 October 2018

It was going on 7 last evening when Elsie's key had turned the lock and Igor ran to greet her. Charles had stepped to the entry hall too, but didn't crowd in, he wanted to get a good look at her, all of her, to gauge how she was doing, she'd sounded rather upset about Joe's dinner request when she'd called earlier.

Purse and laptop bag abandoned beside the butler's pantry, Elsie had walked toward him and into his waiting arms without saying a word. He had returned the favour of silence, stroking his hand up and down her back gently as he kissed her head and shooed the dog away as best he could with his foot. "Thanks for that warm welcome, you two," she voiced, her face buried against Charles's strong, warm chest, breathing him in.

6:45 pm

Going on 24 hours later, Charles stood in the kitchen seasoning three duck breasts, wearing a dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, trousers and navy apron, psyching himself up to extend a welcome of another sort - minus the cuddle - any minute now. Elsie had asked him to join her for this dinner; he did one better, insisting that he host. He was damned if after 7 months of Friday dinners at home this one would be any different - other than Elsie's first lover sitting at his table.

They had settled together on the sofa last night, he nursing a white wine, she her smoothie and more about Joe's two emails began to trickle out from Elsie's lips.  
They'd agreed months ago to "no more secrets" between them but because Charles knew Elsie had lost her virginity with Joe - and Charles understood that some such things are reasonably kept private - he considered this part of Elsie Hughes' life out of bounds. 

Continuing over the Dover sole with Bernaise sauce, pak choy and salad he'd prepared - a lite meal in consideration of the unseasonable warmth - with Charles's ever-gentle encouragement, she had found her voice and Elsie and Joe's shared story poured forth then. How they had been best of friends from the age of 9 when Elsie's parents took over the tenancy on the farm next to Joe's family's land. How Joe had been adopted by her younger siblings as their big brother figure, Aaron all but worshipping him. How Joe had been the one to take her to school dances at the delight of both their mothers and how later in their teenage years they had eventually shared an awkward first kiss. And later still, when they were 19, an even more awkward alcohol-fueled first experimental romp together upstairs at a party in town. Elsie had climaxed, Joe had not - another layer to the then growing awkwardness between them.

Recognizing she had needed a pause in her storytelling, Charles allowed her that space by taking the dog out whilst she cleared the table and turned on the kettle. She had also changed into her favourite of his old t-shirts and was cradling a fresh, hot cuppa in the study when he returned.

His imagination had run wild during the walk as he speculated what he might hear next, and so he had been relieved - very - when she had begun again, "He loved me, Charlie, there was never any doubt. But he didn't love me _that_ way. I wondered for some time after that, Charlie, if he would love _any_ woman that way."

"You think Joe was gay?" he had said aloud, astonished, and Elsie nodded.  
"But he has a son."

"Aye, and he wants to have dinner with me to discuss said son," Elsie nearly closing the conversation exactly where it had started, which is when Charles asked if she wanted to have dinner with Joe. When she acknowledged she did, they agreed to the particulars.

6:55 pm

Elsie had just come from the laundry room where she'd locked up Igor so he wouldn't be his usual nuisance. She wore a printed wrap dress and heels, was freshly coiffed and smelling of blackberry and bay perfume from Jo Malone, a new favourite of Charles's. Charles inhaled deeply as she approached.

Shortly, the front desk called, announcing their visitor. Elsie's nervousness floated to the surface immediately, until Charles took her hand and kissed the back of it, reassuring her he was there at her side.

Joe was barely taller than Elsie, he'd gained a bit of a belly, grown a beard and lost a few hairs atop his head since she'd seen him last decades ago. She looked more beautiful than ever, which Joe said in so many words before Elsie introduced him to Charles. He'd brought flowers and wine, though of course they already had both ready for the evening. As first time visitors always do, Joe complimented Charles on the view and interior after Elsie clarified it was all his. They settled into obligatory small talk about the remarkable weather, Joe's journey down from Scotland and where he was staying. And then Joe surprised them both, by addressing Charles.

"I can only imagine how awkward this is, but I sincerely thank you for graciously welcoming me this evening. You need to know, despite the years, I consider Elsie is one of my dearest friends. I like to think the feeling is mutual though I didn't make it easy on her when we were adults, Mr. Carson. Elsie knew me better than I knew myself, or at least more than I was prepared to admit at the time."

Charles and Elsie sat side by side on the living room sofa, Joe across the coffee table from them. "My father wanted me to marry, to marry Elsie. I asked - twice - and she rejected me both times. I could honestly tell him I tried, but I could never tell him why she said no. I am a gay man, Mr. Carson and Elsie suspected it after, after we...well..."

"Slept together." Charles surprised the both of them - and himself to a degree with his verbalization.

Joe nodded and looked down, ashamed, before continuing on. From the corner of his eye, Charles noted Elsie chewing on her lip anxiously. Rather than call out that usual turn on, he simply reached for her hand resting between their thighs.

"My father was a proud, old Scot, Mr. Carson, he never would have accepted my being gay, and I remained a coward for the rest of his days and beyond, never able to tell him, or admit to myself. Instead, I married another woman, half as beautiful and with none of Elsie's intuition. We had two precious children who are both adults now - I suppose Elsie could have been their mother were she also not a proud Scot.

Elsie, you refused to see me again until I was honest with myself. You made two exceptions, when my parents both died and you came to their funerals. I thank you again for that. It took years and a wonderful great man, Dane, who caught my eye about a decade ago to make me a man honest with himself. I came out to my wife then, we separated and she eventually died. I am sure no doubt because of some of the heartbreak I caused her with my revelation. While I should have reached out to apologize to you then I didn't, and regret that but do hope you'll forgive me now."

"And hope I'll help in another way."

"Yes, help my son, Clifford."

Though Clifford was yet to be and may never become one of Elsie's clients, Charles excused himself to finish preparing their dinner, he felt that sitting in on the conversation might violate some degree of confidentiality between them. Besides, he was able to watch the interaction fully from afar.

Elsie remembered meeting Clifford at his grandmother's funeral. Then a precocious little red head with large, dark brown, seemingly black eyes, he was a grown man now, trained as a dancer and battling a double-whammy of personal (lass) and professional (lack of a job) woes.

With the wine flowing and the heavy topics out in the open, the three relaxed into more casual conversation, with Joe and Elsie sharing more detailed stories and laughter from their youth on the farms and Joe naturally inquiring of Becky, and Charles and Elsie.

Joe planned to be in London into Sunday afternoon, would they join him and Clifford for brunch that morning so he could introduce or reintroduce the lad? They agreed and then, when Joe felt it was time for him to go, Charles offered to ride down with him, whilst taking Igor out.

The two men, Elsie's first and last loves shook hands, with Joe telling Charles something he'd concluded long before, that he was "a very lucky man."


	80. Chapter 80: Canis Minor

Sunday, 14 October 2018

10:45 am

Elsie was dressed in a lace bra and thong knickers when Charles walked into the en suite finding her bent over at the waist in the process of blow-drying her hair. Halting his steps, he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. There were other things he'd prefer to spend his Sunday doing than going to this brunch with Joe and Clifford and Elsie's bare arse in the air was suggesting one alternative.

Peeking out from between her arm and leg, she noticed him then. "Charlie, are you feeling unwell?" she giggled knowing full well what likely put him in his present state.

"Seldom better," he mumbled as he reopened his eyes looking down toward where her voice had come from.

"I can't hear you," Elsie turned off the Dyson Supersonic and flipped her hair back as she stood upright. She noted his appearance now in the mirror, "Don't you look handsome?" He had on dark jeans, a navy button down shirt and camel coloured jacket that matched his shoes.

Staring at her bottom, he admitted, "And you look irresistible."

"Flatterer," she shimmied her hips causing him to groan.

"Tease."

11:15 am

They were seated at the four top Elsie had booked for them, waiting for Joe and Clifford to arrive. Charles had been quick to order a Bloody Mary whilst Elsie settled on orange and strawberry juice, both just been delivered. "Mmm, this is a good one. Do you want to try a sip?"

"No, I'm soon to be working."

"But this isn't the office," he took another sip.

"I realize that, but I don't want Clifford to have any reason to think of me as anything other than professional." He thought back to the en suite; she had given him plenty to think of her beyond the professional. "Besides, I want to assess how receptive he is to the notion of counseling."

He frowned then, "Short of asking, 'Hey mate, do you think counseling is dope?'"

She shook her head, "Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?"

"Just trying to speak like a 20-something."

"You're not being very helpful," she swatted his arm. "Oh, here they come."

Contrary to what he was expecting, Charles found Clifford to be a mature and well-mannered lad. He had a dancer's body - muscular and lithe. Clifford's red hair was well-groomed, he was handsome and polite and reminded Charles of a younger, definitely shorter, Alfred Nugent. In summary, he liked him and so when they were finished eating, he had little hesitation when Elsie asked him and Joe if they'd mind leaving her and Clifford alone for a more private conversation.

Charles and Joe had stepped outside and agreed to peruse the nearby sidewalk vendors' goods. Both found some appeal in the vintage vinyls. Shortly, and far more quickly than Charles anticipated, Elsie had texted him asking where she might find them. She appeared momentarily.

"I'm surprised to see you already, Elsie. Was he alright?" Joe asked, anxiously.

"Aye, I believe so. Did you see the way he ate? Almost as much as Charlie!" Charles didn't know if he should be offended. Then she reached out and patted his forearm, "It's a good sign. Joe, you should go back in, we'll say our goodbyes here and see where this goes."

"I can't thank you enough, Elsie. Truly."

They parted then, Joe heading back into the restaurant whilst Charles and Elsie made their way to the nearest Tube station. She had wanted to check on things at her house - and pick up a few more of those lacy knickers that Charles clearly liked.

They'd walked a handful of strides before Charles looked over his shoulder, confirming Joe was out of sight. "So, I suppose I don't even get a summary of how that went in there with Clifford, after we left."

"No, Mr. Carson, I'm afraid not. Client privilege and all."

"Client? Do you mean he's agreed to counseling?"

"Nothing formalized yet. More than anything I told him I would listen, and try to help but that I could also be a real bitch when I felt the need."

"Elsie!"

"Well, I can!"

"I'm sure but, maybe tone down your language."

"What would you prefer I say, Charlie?"

"I don't know...Scottish Dragon?"

"Scottish Dragon? Is that what you call me behind my back?"

He looked down at her as they walked, hand in hand. "Er, no. I call you...My Scottish Dragon." He smiled his mischievous smile then and both burst out laughing.

When Elsie had regained her composure, she continued. "Regardless of that all, I don't know whether Clifford will agree to see me beyond today."

"On your couch?"

"Say again?"

"On your couch – in your office. I have very good memories of being on that couch with you."

She teased him again, "Oh that couch – the one where I first kissed you."

"Yeah, that one. Don't ever get rid of it."

3:15 pm

When they arrived at Elsie's, they were pleased to run into John returning from Sainsbury's. He invited them in to say hello to Anna and Jack who'd grown so. As Charles and Elsie marveled at how Jack was crawling and pulling himself up to standing, Anna marveled at how long Elsie's hair had grown. "Yes, it's beginning to be a bother and with the weather growing cooler I am needing to get in to have it trimmed soon otherwise even with my Dyson, it's going to take more time to dry than I'd like." Charles didn't have a problem with her hair drying, but he also had the good sense to share that.

"Well, if it's just a trim you're after, I could take care of that today, especially if there's a trade to be worked out."

"What do you have in mind, Anna?"

"We need to go to a memorial visitation out of town on Wednesday afternoon and expect we'll be gone into the evening hours. We haven't yet found a baby sitter. You and Mr. Carson did so well with Jack that one afternoon this summer that I wonder if we might barter."

Charles spoke then. "Of course, we'd be delighted. You take care of Elsie's hair and we'll take care of Jack on Wednesday. Just tell me what time you need me here."

A/N: Nosing around for some writing help, I went to the Urban Dictionary website today as I often do. Julian Fellowes must have visited the site (and casting director Jill Trevellick too) when initially naming the core DA characters. Look at what that site has listed for the term CARSON, for starters:

"cute, funny, sexy, loving, caring, smile, great hair, great face…A great guy who is incredible at making you feel happy, is very cute and caring to anyone around him, sexy smile … bro, that's a Carson."


	81. Chapter 81: Chow Chow

Thursday, 18 October 2018

4:00 pm

Realization dawning on what he'd offered in terms of babysitting 10 month old Jack Bates - without Elsie or Sybbie's help - had prompted Charles to fret anticipating the situation he now found himself in. No, not changing a dirty nappy - he'd dealt with a few of those back when Edith and Sybil were babies. Rather, a lad so distraught at being without his mother or father that he wasn't just crying but screaming. The fear was so deep that Charles had actually woken from a nightmare about the very circumstance last night - he woke so violently that he woke Elsie too who found his bare chest covered in a cold sweat. She urged him to dry himself off and then put a vest on before they cuddled together, Charles sharing his fears. "Well, it's too late to back out now. Think positive and you'll do fine tomorrow, Charlie," were her last words as she had drifted back to sleep.

"Thanks for the encouragement, Elsie," he said aloud now as he bounced the recently woken Master Jack on his hip, walking around the Bates' parlour. "It's okay Jack, it's okay. Mummy and daddy won't be gone long and in the meantime, you have me and Igor and later Elsie, too."

At the mere mention of her name Jack calmed noticeably, a last half sob escaping his lips, no more tears forming in his eyes. "Whoa there Jack, you like Elsie, huh?" At that, Jack actually smiled. "I like her too," Charles kissed the lad's forehead then as he cradled him to his chest, repeating, "I like her too."

4:25 pm

Between clients herself, Elsie phoned to see how they were doing and inquire about dinner. "We're doing fine now, playing with blocks - or eating them," Charles explained from his position on the floor lying on his side beside Jack.

"What's for dinner, Charlie?"

"Anna showed me; there are peas, banana, boiled egg white, some -"

"For us, you silly goose!"

"Oh, of course. Um, I'm not up for preparing anything and I don't expect you to either. Let's go out."

She thought for a moment then triggered on her mention of goose a moment ago, she offered, "The duck you prepared last Friday was tasty. It makes me want Duck Three Way again at Chow Fun. Meet me at the office at 5:40 and we'll walk over there for an early meal?"

5:50 pm

"Tell me again why you didn't bring his pram?"

"Maneauverability. It's hell getting in and out of doors, up the stairs. This is far easier," Charles explained as he walked along, Jack strapped to his chest in a baby carrier and nappy bag in Charles's right hand as he held Chow Fun's front door open for Elsie to pass.

Mrs. Chow was busy seating another table at the moment and therefore did not see them come in. They were still standing inside the door, Charles's back to the dining room and Elsie directly in front of him playing peekaboo with Jack to entertain the lad as they waited. As Mrs. Chow approached she asked, "How many table for?"

Elsie peered around Charles then, "Hi, Mrs. Chow, how have you been?"

"Oh Elsie! I miss you! Good to see you, welcome back!" Charles turned then. She recognized him too, but Jack was unexpected. "Whoa! You two have baby already? This one big and quick, huh Elsie? You kinda old to be parents, though, no?"

Elsie clarified the situation amongst them and Mrs. Chow sighed in relief before pinching Jack's cheek and making him cry again. He was just getting fussy once more, a result of hunger so they were glad to be seated and didn't even need menus to order, able to attend to Jack. As Charles settled him in the high chair, Elsie unpacked his food as Mrs. Chow brought over a bowl of white rice for him too. Elsie mixed in a few of the peas before sliding the bowl across the table to Charles who by now had also fastened Jack's bib. Charles spooned up some of the rice and pea mixture to feed to Jack. The lad leaned forward eager for that first bite and several that followed. When their soup arrived, Elsie suggested Jack might be able to feed himself and so she tore up the egg white into small pieces and laid them on the tray in front of him as Jack had at it on his own.

With Jack content, they were able to enjoy their meal and discuss their respective Wednesdays - no word from Clifford yet, Charles had photos to share from Sybil - Sybbie's school photo and others from dance class. Charles mentioned his idea to purchase tickets for them all to see THE NUTCRACKER together at Christmas. Elsie couldn't believe how soon it would be here and endorsed the suggestion.

As soon as he was full, Jack was fussy again, wanting out of the high chair. As Charles was standing up to walk him around, Mrs. Chow stopped him. "Cute baby, if he come with me, I walk him around, you - eat!" Jack did go with her and they stood watching the fish in the aquarium for quite some time, allowing Charles and Elsie to finish their meal. When Mrs. Chow brought their fortune cookies, Elsie's read: Steal someone's heart away. "Are you that someone, Charlie?" she held it up for him to read.

"Well, I certainly hope so!" Then he read his aloud the first time over, "How does it feel to have a body everybody wants?" He arched his eyebrows at that.

"I guess I'm everybody to your someone, Charlie." He looked across the table to her then, and noticed her deliberately nibbling on her lower lip.

"Oh no, don't do that to me here or now, we're in public and have a child in our care tonight!"

"So?" and before Charles knew it, he felt Elsie's toes trailing up his leg toward his groin.

"Elsie!"


	82. Chapter 82: Whelping Pen

Sunday, 21 October 2018

4:30 pm

" _If you and Charlie Boy don't have plans, come over for supper. Bill and I have a few surprises to show you."_

"At _Becky's. He's having a pint with Tom. No plans beyond that."_

" _Tom?"  
_

" _Branson…Grantham…played in the cricket match."_

" _Now I remember."_

" _He's welcome too. 6ish."_

" _Bless you. These weekends at Becky's are exhausting!"_

" _Exhausting AND keep you from getting any with Charlie…wink, wink!"_

" _Enough!"_

" _NEVER enough! Ha! Ha! No Igor tonight, please."_

" _Gladly."_

5:58 pm

"Hello, sweetheart," Elsie greeted him at the Masons' door with a kiss, "Tom, I'm glad you're here," she welcomed him too with a hug.

"Hi, Elsie."

"Come on in you two. Getting nippy."

Charles let Tom pass and gave Elsie another peck on the lips. "I missed you," he whispered.

"Me too," Elsie shut the door behind them.

"Mmm, smells great, Mr. Carson said Mrs. Mason's a wonderful cook!"

Overhearing the compliment, Beryl stepped out of the kitchen. "Aach, 'Mr. Carson', 'Mrs. Mason' none of that formality here, Tom. This here's Charlie Boy, I'm Beryl and Bill's in the parlour with our surprises. Make yourself at home. Oh, and I am a good cook! Hiya, Charlie Boy!" She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and Charles bent to shorten the distance. Only in the background, he heard high-pitched yelping.

"What's that I hear?"

"C'mon Charlie Boy, let me show you the Masons' _surprises_ ," Elsie patted his upper arm to shoo him along.

"Tom, Charlie, glad you could make it," Bill started to stand from his position kneeling beside a large, plastic framed bin on his parlour floor.

"What's this now?" Charles asked looking down on an adult Rough Collie contentedly nursing three pups.

"This would be Lizzie and her 4 week old charges, Annie, Phil and Chuck," answering his question, Bill extended his hand to Charles.

"I don't understand, I mean you are a Vet but surely you don't often take your patients home with you?"

"Thank goodness no!" Beryl shouted from the kitchen.

"No," he chuckled. "Though Lizzie's been my patient and we know her well and are going to get one of these three for Ivy and Evelyn as their Christmas present. They're too young to be away from their mum but I want to get a jump on understanding their disposition, pick the right one."

"So they're all here the weekend," Elsie noted. "So far Chuck is the front runner."

"Chuck, like Charlie Boy!" Beryl howled from the kitchen.

"Or Prince Charles – owner's a big fan of the Windsors."

"Get it? Lizzie, Phil, Chuck and Annie," Elsie rolled her eyes at the absurdity knowing full well Charles would likely disapprove of the casualness of the names.

"We call their whelping pen the palace!" Bill chuckled. "You have a little girl, Tom. Maybe she'd like one of the puppies as well?"

"Oh, you know she would, given she's going to be a dog for Halloween no less, but no, we'll pass thank you very much. They are cute though."

"And cuddly."

"You held them already?" Charles was surprised Elsie would choose to.

"Just Annie, briefly."

"We'll get them out later, after they're done nursing. C'mon, let's leave them be and get you all a drink."

7:15 pm

Charles was anxious to pet the pups. To ensure Lizzie would not feel threatened by him, Bill encouraged Charles to stay seated and keep his voice low and pet her first. Charles did so, earning her trust. In time, Bill brought all three pups one by one over to Charles and set them in his overflowing arms, an adorable and photo-worthy sight even Elsie had to admit.

"Don't get them excited, Charlie, I fear one or all may wee all over you."

"It might happen even without them getting excited!"

In time, Phil was the first one to want down which Charles obliged, with help from Beryl. Then Annie licked his cheek thoroughly before she too wanted to join her mum and Phil, leaving Chuck cradled against Charles's big warm chest.

The others helped clear the table, Tom excused himself to step outside and call Boston. He didn't want Sybbie to see the puppies. Charles continued to sit holding his _namesake,_ rubbing his belly. "Has he fallen asleep?" Elsie whispered as she leaned against Charles's shoulders from behind.

"Seems so."

"I hope you'll cuddle me as tenderly later, Charlie."

"With pleasure, especially if you give me a belly rub as good as the one he's getting."

"Oh, that can be arranged."

10:30 pm

"Elsie?"

"Hmmm?" They were cuddled together under duvet, Elsie's index finger dipping into his belly button as her other fingers and thumb stroked the fine, sparse hairs on his belly.

"We need to discuss our diaries."

"What's there to discuss?" She asked, lazily.

"Well, for starters, I'm afraid I've missed your ¾ birthday, on the 11th."

"Oh forget that, just a reminder I'm getting older," she squeezed her arm against his middle. "What else?"

"Well, there's the costumed Halloween party Thomas and Simon are hosting next weekend," he frowned.

"Yes, and we're going. Did you figure out what we're going to be?"

"I thought I'd be a Christmas tree. Run a string of lights around my neck and just stand in the corner all night."

"Funny, I think we can do better than that. Put your thinking cap on in the days ahead though."

"Cora hosts a Thanksgiving dinner every year – a thread of her American heritage she hangs on to."

"Sounds nice, when is that?"

"Last weekend in November."

She sat up then, "But that's when Beryl and Bill host their Fall Festival. Lots of food and fun."

"Uh oh, sounds like we might have conflicting events."

"Yeah, and I want you to be able to come with me to the Fall Festival."

"And I want you to come with me to Hampshire to the Thanksgiving party. It's also Sybbie's birthday weekend, I don't want to miss it. And then there'll be Christmas. What do you do for Christmas usually?"

"Charlie, I don't have the energy to sort through this all right now, Christmas is two months away."

"We'd also spoken about a summer getaway, but we never did that. Things got a little busy, you'll recall." He peered down at her then, in the moonlight. "Or do you want to forget about that too?"

"If it's just for us, I don't want to forget about it."

"Good. Because I have an idea."

"Charlie love, go to sleep." Only his wheels were turning.


	83. Chapter 83: Old Dogs New Tricks & Treats

M is for magic - and much more!

Saturday, 27 October 2018

When she'd arrived home on Tuesday this week, savory scents were coming from the oven as Charles chopped herbs whilst humming. After he'd kissed her on the lips and hung her coat, he had explained the giddiness. "I've just in the last hour figured out our costumes for the party, or mine anyway. I think you're going to love it!"

He had led her by the hand to the bedroom then where a tuxedo with tails was laying on top of a garment bag on the bed. "Guess what I'm going to be!"

"A penguin?"

"Not an animal, a person."

"Fred Astaire?"

"No, not a specific person. Think profession."

She had thought harder. "A conductor?"

"Getting warmer."

"A butler!"

"Who would be a butler for a Halloween party?" as if it were the most preposterous thing in the world.

"A curmudgeon! I don't know, Charlie, just tell me!"

"A magician! And you can be my assistant!"

After dinner that evening, he had torn his office apart, amazing Elsie with all the magic props he had pulled from drawers - and all the tricks he could perform with them. She remembered him entertaining the children at the party in advance of May's MoonWalk but this was a revelation. Elsie had agreed so long as she didn't have to carry a live rabbit or be sawed in half, she would be his assistant.

On Wednesday they had met at her house so that she could improvise a magician assistant's costume. A red halter top had been dug out of a far corner of her closet and paired with a black crop jacket. When she'd found her black Skater skirt and red heels she knew she was getting somewhere but when she had held up her black fishnet stockings Charles was so delighted that he lifted her off her feet and spun her around the bedroom before setting her down again and nuzzling on his favourite spot behind her ear.

9:15 pm

Tonight though, it was Elsie who was beside herself with love. He'd first caught her eye wearing only his pressed black trousers, polished shoes, white shirt and braces whilst tying his white bow tie. But when he slipped on the black jacket with pockets loaded with coins, handkerchiefs and other sources of mischief, she was filled with desire. It only intensified as he clearly delighted fellow party-goers and found his own pleasure in entertaining them.

Among the other costumes were a vampire (Simon), a unicorn (Thomas), Batman and The Joker (George and Matthew Talbot), a kangaroo (Mary Talbot), women dressed as the Spice Girls, a clergyman, clowns, witches and firemen.

Elsie continued to marvel at her handsome man working the crowd, entertaining them with sleights of hand intermixed with his own making candy disappear into his mouth - until she couldn't suppress her desire any longer.

She pulled him aside as he dipped yet another apple slice in the caramel fountain. "Have you given any thought to how you're going to work off all that sugar, Charlie?"

"What sugar?" he asked innocently licking his fingers.

"Mm-hmm. Your magic wand could come in handy, I suppose."

"Elsie, I don't have a wand."

Stepping closer so their fronts were touching, she discretely grabbed him through his trousers, before explaining equally discretely, "Oh, but you do Mr. Carson, and I assure you it has magical powers. I'd be delighted to help demonstrate." As she stepped back, smiling, realization dawned on Charles that there was something far more rewarding to be found upstairs.

As Thomas approached then, Charles caught his attention, "We're leaving now. Thank you for a brilliant party."

"But it's still early and everyone's loving your tricks!"

"That may be, but a magician need not steal the show. Good night, thank Simon for us too."

They retreated hastily to the lifts and Charles couldn't unlock the flat's front door fast enough for either of them. Immediately inside then and the door barely closed, Elsie pushed Charles's back against the door, reaching her arms around his shoulders and lips up to his wantonly. Momentarily, a trail of coins, playing cards, metal rings, collapsible top hat and other accessories landed on the floor and into the living room where articles of clothing followed as she undressed him as they walked. By the time she backed him into the bedroom, he was only in his shorts at which point he began to return the favour.

Charles pulled her jacket off her shoulders, halter over her head then helped her unfasten her bra before letting down her hair and setting her bottom on the edge of the bed. Leaning back on her forearms with one leg in the air at a time, Charles eased off her heels and rolled up (down?) her stockings before bending forward and slipping his fingers under the waistband of her now wet knickers and removing them too. Standing upright again he kneaded them in a ball as he looked down and watched her scoot herself back.

Watching intently, he grabbed his growing self as she continued to slide the duvet and top sheet out from under herself until she laid fully back, hair spread across the pillow, one hand on her full breast playing with her hardened nipple, knees bent and flat on the mattress, soles of her feet against one another as she also touched herself - there. He whimpered.

"My Mr. Abracadabra, make those shorts disappear and come here."

He did so in no time, crawling up toward her and immediately making something else disappear inside her wet, warm center. "Oh God yes, Charlie, yes!" She raised her hips to his, encouraging him to continue. Harder, ever faster, deeper, he drove into her as their tongues, teeth and lips danced together and fingers found new forms of satisfaction.

Eventually, after she climaxed and he collapsed on top of her, they cuddled together continuing to treat one another to sweet caresses and kisses. "I do so love you, Elsie Hughes," he declared before kissing the tip of her nose, eyelid and temple.

The whole of him was just calming down when he looked over to the bedsidewhere Igor was now standing, jowl on the mattress looking at him longingly. "Shit, what time is it? He needs to go out."

Elsie lifted her cheek off Charles's bare chest to find Igor's puppy dog eyes staring back at her. "Dam you."

"I'll be quick about it." He was scooting himself out from under Elsie and the covers then. With his evening wear strewn about the floor, he instead walked the few steps over to the valet stand for his jeans and plaid shirt from earlier.

"Commando, Charlie?"

"Yes, I plan to come right back here," he said as he carefully zipped himself up before leaning over to kiss Elsie soundly on the lips once more. "Don't go anywhere," he winked.

"You're a saint," she said as she pushed that ever-errant curl off his forehead.

10:40 pm

Elsie had risen and used the loo, washed her face and teeth whilst he was out. She also picked up their clothes and stacked them in a corner before noticing all of Charles's magic gear.

She was back, sitting up in bed with the light on, organizing the deck of cards when he returned, mobile in his hand and wide grin upon his face that disappeared when she shook her finger at the dog beside him. Igor bolted to the living room then. "What's he done?"

"Chewed up a few of your cards, I'm afraid, and the Queen of Hearts seems to be missing entirely. I wonder if he ate it." Charles still had their ALICE IN WONDERLAND prop photo as his screen saver and held it up for her to see. "I can't blame him. In my experience the Queen of Hearts is the tastiest of all!" He tossed the mobile down on his bedside table then.

"Cheeky. You aren't mad, Charlie? It's another reason in a long book to wring his collar for, if you ask me."

Charles was naked once again and crawling under the covers beside her. "Not mad. In fact, I'm finding it a little hard to be mad right now about anything other than Brexit after the evening I've had, including an email that just came through from a mate I worked with eons ago whom I've been trading messages with the last couple of weeks." He flashed a wicked smile before continuing.

"I'd promised you a summer getaway for just the two of us, only I missed our summer and then I missed your 3/4 birthday. So how would you like a summer getaway on your birthday instead, sweetheart?"

"Need I remind you 'on my birthday' means 11 January - hardly summer, Charlie."

Wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close again, he continued. "Ah, need I remind you that 11 January is the heart of the Southern Hemisphere's summer."

"What are you saying, Charlie?" she turned to look at him head on.

"I'm saying, we have an invitation to Australia - Sydney more specifically."

"Sydney! Oh, Charlie, I've never been beyond Europe!" She paused then and looked at him suspiciously. "This isn't for the Ashes is it? Because I don't want to spend 20 or so hours each way in an airplane just to watch some cricket match!"

He pulled her to him again, kissing her forehead. "First, the Ashes is more than 'some cricket match' but alas, the trip has nothing to do with cricket. Instead my mate wants me to present at a conference at the University of Sydney. I thought we could make a real holiday of it."

"Oh, Charlie, that's brilliant, really!"

Picking up on her enthusiasm, he kissed her again. "So you'll go down under with me, Ms. Hughes - all expenses paid?"

"All expenses paid? In a heartbeat!"

"Fantastic! Fan-friggin-tastic!" He studied her gorgeous face then before reaching out with both of his hands and pulling her lips to his. Her eyes were closed still when he pulled away suddenly with a low chuckle in his voice.

He was kissing his way down her neck to her collar bone, breast and beyond, prompting her to ask, "Wait, where are you going?"

He looked up at her, smiled broadly and waggled his eyebrows as he stroked her cheek. "I'm going 'down under' right now!" And he flipped the sheet over his head before she felt his hands and nose spreading her legs apart.


	84. Chapter 84: Shiny New Collar

Friday, 2 November 2018

With one week to go before Gwen's wedding to her American beau, their preparations were ramping up for the event. Elsie asked him to join her at her place this morning to provide a second opinion on which earrings to wear with her dress which she planned to also bring along to a booking with Anna. A proper cut and styling tips for how to fix her hair with the dress were the plan.

Though she'd bought it 2.5 months ago in Bath, she hadn't allowed Charles to see the dress yet, so when she walked downstairs in the navy sleeveless, low cut V-neck, with slit rising to her left thigh, he felt stirrings of desire in his groin and had to concentrate very hard in answering her questions about the earrings: a pair of diamond drops that had been a graduation gift years ago from Martha and Harold, or sapphire dangles. He opted for the sapphires that had been her choice as well, though one needed a repair hence the deciding today.

As she would be at Anna's, Charles offered to take the earring in to Brounker Road Jewelers where he'd become a customer years ago. Most recently, he'd bought Sybbie's Easter bracelet there and he and Elsie had picked out her "Shrimpie" charm there too.

As any good salesperson would, upon relinquishing the broken earring to the jeweler in the back room, the clerk showed Charles a stunning, teardrop sapphire pendant on a slim white gold chain that she thought would pair beautifully with the earrings.

He could instantly picture it around Elsie's neck and was immediately tempted though he thought through what her reaction might be. In the end, he purchased the necklace and asked the salesperson for wrapping. Whilst she did so, he looked around the display counters for anything else that might catch his eye; Christmas, after all, was coming soon.

They were due to meet for lunch and wanting to keep the necklace a surprise, he decided he best run it home. So as soon as he had his credit card back in his wallet, Elsie's gift in its box and her repaired earring in its sack, he dashed out the door. He'd turned the corner and was dashing past the jeweler's second window when a sparkling ring caught his eye. He stopped to study it more closely though it was difficult through the glass. He looked at his watch, frustrated with his time crunch. Rather than go back inside, he took a quick photo and made a mental note to inquire of it later when he had more time.

12:25 pm

Elsie was waiting for him when he returned to Anna's salon, her hair in a chignon that stirred him all over again. "My darling, you look gorgeous!" He planted a series of kisses from her mouth up her cheek and to her ear which he nibbled on. "Oh, you might want to put this in," holding up the repaired dangle.

"Brilliant, one less thing to worry about in the next week. Thank you, Charlie. So, you like the hair?"

"Very much!"

"Good, it was so nice to catch up with Anna – and she helped me figure out my contribution for next week's reception. I'm quite excited!"

"Don't tell me!"

"Of course not, we'll both just have to wait and be surprised."

Charles had never heard anything like it, but once their wedding RSVP had been received, further instructions had been sent from Gwen and her fiancé, John Harding. To make the reception more inclusive of their guests – and celebrate where they'd met in John's native Nashville - guests were invited to submit a song the DJ would play, as a dedication to guests' significant others. The hitch was it had to be a country song, a genre which Charles had little familiarity But he'd dutifully tackled the assignment spending hours on Google and Pandora and had been delighted with the lyrics behind his eventual selection. And he and Elsie had agreed they'd keep their selections secret from one another until they were played.

"Hold on, Elsie, I have a call." He fished his mobile out of his breast pocket. "Oh, it's Sybil! Hello my dear, are you back in jolly old England?"

"Yes, Uncle Carson, we arrived this morning, early of course."

"Good, good, so glad to hear that. Just in time for Guy Fawkes celebrations!"

"Yes, we also caught the Red Sox World Series victory parade this week so we are enjoying all sorts of celebrating. It's good to be back, though there's so much to do around the new house."

"Remember, I'm happy to lend a hand with furniture, boxes whatever – today, tomorrow, whenever; you know I have all sorts of time."

"Yes, thank you. We appreciate that, and you know we are all anxious to see you. We're going to try to plow through on our own and see where we get today and into tomorrow, perhaps dinner tomorrow evening? I fear we're going to all be too tired tonight."

"Of course, yes, come over. Elsie and I are planning to partake in Bonfire Night festivities. Tomorrow night is Battersea. Perhaps you'd like to join us."

"Possibly, we'll see."

"OK, well, plan on dinner for now. It will be wonderful to see you all."

"Yes, you and Elsie as well."


	85. Chapter 85: Dog's Bollocks

Saturday, 3 November 2018

Charles knew his onions, literally and figuratively; he proved it this morning when they ventured to Borough Market together.

Whereas Elsie's practice was to push a trolley through Sainsbury or Tesco aisles – and often purchase prepared meals at that – Charles thrived in the market experience. He knew right where to go with his insulated bags finding inspiration at the fishmonger's to prepare paella – a subtle nod to the Spanish ties of Guy Fawkes, aka Guido.

Mr. Applebee himself helped pick out prawns, mussels and scallops. The butcher from Northfield Farm was next with chicken and Marylebone sausage. Thereafter, flowers, produce, cheese, eggs, milk, olives and bread were picked up here and there; she lost count where all they stopped. It all looked wonderful, though it seemed Charles was planning to cook for an army; he assured her the paella would make for wonderful leftovers. She in turn had volunteered to make individual flans.

3:00 pm

As Elsie took command in the kitchen, Charles retired to his office to revisit the Qantas website. They'd discussed their two week(!) holiday and agreed to stops in Sydney and Perth on the mainland and Hobart on Tasmania. Now exactly eight weeks away, Charles was keen on booking their tickets.

"Elsie, where do you want to sit?"

"In your lap?"

"Cheeky, no, I mean on the international flights." He was holding up his laptop screen for her to see the seat map only she was concentrating on the measuring cup in her hand. She looked up then. "Window or aisle, forward facing or back?"

"Wherever, so long as I'm beside you darling." He liked that answer. Very much.

5:30 pm

"Elsie, they're on their way up!"

"I'll be out momentarily!"

He looked around verifying that everything was just so. The dining table was set; a stack of small plates, sliced Manchego, a bowl of olives and one for the pits rested on the low coffee table in the living room. "Outstanding," he said to himself, approving of the spread and their efforts together.

In anticipation of the doorbell, he walked over that way, leaving Igor alone in the living room, where unbeknownst to Charles the dog first sniffed and then licked one of the olives. "Get away from there!" Elsie spotted the dog just after, his head still over the edge of the coffee table and she shooed him away as she herself continued toward the front door.

"CC!"

"Oh, Munchkin – look at you! My you've grown taller since the summer!"

"And I've lost three teeth! Where's LC?"

"I'm right here, Petal. My, my look at you!" The lass had wrapped herself around Charles's torso, having jumped in his arms as soon as the door was open.

"Sybil, Tom, come in, please. Sybbie, let me take your parents' coats."

Whilst the adults sat in the living room satisfying their appetites, Sybbie, full of giggles, played contently on the floor with Igor. Later, as they gathered around the table, Sybbie sat between Charles and Sybil, Elsie noting with amazement how Sybbie loved the mussels. "Another reason for my choice of paella," Charles winked.

7:00 pm

Charles ushered everyone into their coats for he had arranged for the car service to drive them to Battersea. On the way over, Sybbie asked who Guy Fawkes was, only, with her missing teeth it sounded more like "Fucks." It was all their driver could do to keep from laughing aloud, though Charles dutifully described how in the early 1600s the English rebel was discovered guarding explosives beneath the Houses of Parliament and thus the Gunpowder Plot thwarted.

7:45 pm

Unfortunately, tickets had been sold out months ago and whilst Charles and Elsie had their, they opted to remain together with the Bransons on the fringes of the Park – not close enough to see the bonfire, but plenty close for the fireworks that would begin in a few minutes. They found a low serpentine bench to sit on whilst Sybbie continued to prance about.

"Ooh, candy floss! Can I, please, CC?" The vendor stopped upon hearing the plea, hopeful to make a sale and Charles was instinctively reaching for his wallet to indulge her.

Sybil intervened. "Uh, no my dear. Between your Halloween candy and that delicious flan Elsie made us, you've had more than enough sugar the last few days. I don't want those new teeth of yours getting cavities before they're fully in." Noticing the first signs of a pout, Sybil continued, "Sybbie Cora Branson, I suggest you think twice!"

The vendor had yet to move, and Charles turned his gaze to Elsie nestled beside him. "I suppose you'd like some."

"No," then she whispered so only he could hear, "I might be inclined to put something else sticky in my mouth later."

Did she just imply something risqué, he wondered? Her nod toward his groin confirmed she did, and as his face reddened yet smiled, she just laughed.

"Sybbie, come here please. It's getting too crowded and I want you to come sit down with the rest of us," her mother instructed. "Where would you like to sit?"

The lass thought for a moment, "On CC's lap."

"Come here, my lass," a composed Charles stretched out his arms.

As Sybbie climbed up and got herself comfortable, Elsie elbowed him. "Hmm, I guess I'm not the only one who wanted to sit on your lap."

Without making eye contact, he advised, "I'm quite popular with the ladies."

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

Dear friends IRL have been the inspiration for many bits in this fic. She had implant replacements – 30 years after her double mastectomy. He peed on their copper mailbox, and their onetime dog – a collie – did once lick a bowl of olives on their coffee table – only he had me as a witness!


	86. Chapter 86: Screw the Pooch

Monday, 5 November 2018

Southwark's Bonfire Night fireworks, among London's best, was a huge moneymaker for the merchants. Accordingly, the fairground opened at 5:00 and Elsie had difficulty navigating her way to Charles's after work. With a strict no admittance policy after 6:30 pm, they had to rush to the gates. Once through, however, they'd been able to partake in the food traders' offerings, bars, funfair and special fire performances. It was fun and festive and added to Elsie's good day that included, at long last, an email from Clifford Burns requesting a booking; he would partake Thursday afternoon.

8:30 pm

On their way home, they'd encountered some South Bank Tower neighbours and were comparing notes about the main fireworks display. All agreed the musical choreography was exceptional and Charles and Elsie both judged it far superior to Battersea's fireworks on Saturday.

As Charles came through the Tower's revolving door, Arthur motioned him over to the front desk. "Mr. Carson, I apologize for interrupting, but I've been trying to reach you."

"I'd silenced my phone for the fireworks display. Sorry."

"Ah, I see. Well, Mrs. Denker's called down – three times in the last half hour – complaining of noise from your flat."

"Oh dear," Elsie chimed in. She knew enough of Charles's high and mighty next door neighbour to not think much of her, but also knew best to leave her be. "Charlie, I hope Igor hasn't done anything."

The lift doors had barely cracked open on 30 and they could hear Igor barking – loudly! "Shit!" they exclaimed simultaneously rushing to his front door where they could also hear scratching. Igor bolted out as soon as he could, running to a far corner of the hallway. Denker's door opened a crack, "That you, Mr. Carson? 'Bout time you shut that dog up!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Denker," Only her door was slammed shut once again as Charles went to fetch Igor who was trembling. "It's okay boy, it's okay. You must not like fireworks. Come along now, the noise is _all_ over." Igor wasreluctantly off his haunches, Charles coaxing him toward his door.

Only Elsie, who had disappeared inside, opened the door fully and the dog pulled back. With remorse in her voice Elsie advised, "I don't know as you want to see, Charlie."

The interior surface of the door, jamb, and wall beside them were scratched with claw marks; a trail of wet scat and urine stretched between the curtain wall and wood floor in the vestibule. Charles was not pleased but recognizing that all could be cleaned and repaired, he said as much. "Could have been worse. I'm sure I still have some disinfectant and deodorizer left over from Lady. I'll go get it."

"Just tell me where it is. He's my dog," said an irate Elsie.

"I'll help."

"No, Charlie. Just, just get him out of my sight. Please."

She scrubbed for 35 minutes on her hands and knees, gagging at the smell. When Charles returned, he closed Igor in the second bath, and offered to help again but Elsie, in tears, forbid him from lifting a finger. He poured her a Scotch them as she stated simply that she'd done her best, she'd pay for a professional cleaning but for now was going to take a hot bath.

Ten minutes after he heard the water stop running, he ventured into the en suite, cautiously. "Elsie, love?" Her head was tipped against the rim of the tub; if her eyes had been open, they would have been trained on the ceiling.

"I told you before, I never wanted him," she said, softly.

Charles came over and perched on the side of the tub, answering compassionately,"Yes, you've said. You took him to appease Beryl, Bill, Becky, perhaps others."

"Aye, so I'd be safe walking home from group after dark." She paused. "The irony being, you've met me weekly for months now."

"And I'll gladly continue to do so, as long as you'll have me," he added tenderly.

"Thank you, Charlie." She opened her eyes finally and extended a hand covered in bubbles in his direction. "I feel awful about Igor's mess tonight. Not sure how I can make it up to you."

He massaged her fingers one by one as he boldly put voice to a thought that had been running through his mind with increased frequency. "Move in with me. Full time."

She sat up then. "But -"

"No 'but' just...think about it. Take all the time you need." And then he kissed the back of her hand and winked, "I'm not asking anyone else." As he let go of her hand and walked to the bedroom, he appeared perfectly calm to her yet his heart was pounding, hopeful she'd say yes.

She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "Move in?" she whispered to herself, mind racing as she slid down, submerging her head.


	87. Chapter 87: Napping in the Car

Thursday, 8 November 2018

Elsie hadn't said 'yes' to his invitation to move in with him on Sunday evening. Though when she came to bed and bypassed her book simply seeking his embrace, he took it as a promising sign. And whilst he really would allow her to take all the time she needed, he suspected she was at least processing the possibility for he had noticed she'd slept fitfully every night since. And now her sleeplessness was catching up to her.

Their Scarborough hotel booking was tonight into Sunday and they were planning to drive straight there, 4+ hours of nighttime driving. He dropped Igor to the kennel, returned to South Bank Tower, ate a sandwich and loaded their things in the car – one insulated bag with a sandwich for her, bottled water, biscuits and fruit for both; two valises; one garment bag; and one shopping bag with four pairs of dress shoes in their boxes.

He could see the tiredness in her eyes when he met her in the lobby of her office building and in the way she handed him her computer bag straightaway. So he was glad when she heeded his encouragement to close her eyes and drifted off to sleep by the time they were not 15 miles outside of London.

8:30 pm

"Sweetheart?" he asked softly, then again, louder.

She blinked her eyes open, consciousness returning. "Charlie? Are we there, Scarborough?"

"Not by a long shot, approaching Nottingham. I'm just going to pull off at the next exit for petrol, probably hit the head. I'm sorry to wake you but I thought you might benefit from a stretch yourself and I want you to sleep tonight."

She moved gingerly, feeling a knot in her neck. "Good idea. Yes, sleep in a bed rather than semi-upright in a 20-year old Mercedes seat. Ow."

"Are you alright?"

"Aye. Thank you for waking me or I might feel worse later." She cleared her throat as her mind did so as well.

"Either way, remember we have the morning entirely free and then after lunch, massages!"

"I can't wait."

"I'll gladly try to work out any knots before then."

"Of course you will." She reached over and squeezed his knee, eliciting a smile of contentment.

8:50 pm

Back on the M1 heading north again, Elsie tried the radio and mainly got static, so pulled out her mobile instead. "How about a little something to put you in the mood?"

"Elsie Mae Hughes! Honestly, I need my hands on the wheel – and, erm, alternatively, the back seat is full!"

"Not that, Charlie. The wedding, the _reception_." She hit the play icon and suddenly he realized what she was suggesting as they spent the rest of the ride to Scarborough listening to country music she had downloaded in the quest to find her dedication song.


	88. Chapter 88: Doggie Style

Friday, 9 November 2018

They'd checked in to the Crown Spa Hotel just after midnight, unable to really appreciate their stylish room or sea view, just a welcoming mattress and bedding.

Upon waking to bright, beautiful sunshine approaching 9:00, however, they realized they were on the beachfront overlooking South Bay, in a surprisingly and delightfully upscale yet affordable, hotel.

After a long, leisurely morning into early afternoon walk, they enjoyed luncheon in the hotel's restaurant. Later, inside its classy spa, they indulged in their couple's full body 90-minute massage, followed by facials, manicures and pedicures. Was it all over the top? No, just living a little.

Whilst Elsie's nail polish was drying, Charles went up to their room to read his book. Only, when Elsie returned she found him snoring in the lounge chair, feet up on the ottoman, apparently lulled to sleep by the sound of raindrops that had started hitting the windows. She woke him shortly thereafter knowing he'd want to shave and spritz then they both needed to dress for the church service.

Whilst she was tending to her hair and makeup in the en suite, Charles had dressed in the bedroom. He was sitting in his tuxedo trousers, black braces, white shirt and black tie, tying his shoelaces when she emerged.

"Well, what do you think?" He looked up then, charmed more than ever by her beauty.

"Beautiful beyond words, if you must know." He slipped into his jacket and came and kissed her cheek, his nose making her left earring shimmy about. He backed up then. "Turn around, please." She did so with a gleeful twirl. "Slower." So she turned again before he gestured for her to turn once more.

"Charlie, we need to be leaving for the church soon!"

"I know, I know, I just, well, do you want my honest opinion?"

Suddenly alarmed that her appearance wasn't just so, she replied. "Of course I do!"

"There's an obvious sparkle in your eyes, which delights me." Then he reached inside his breast pocket, extending a slender package to her, "And I hope _this_ will delight _you_."

Caught off guard, she read the embossing on the seal, _Brounker Road Jewelers_. "Charlie?"

"Open it," he grinned like a schoolboy. With shaky hands she did just that and when she caught sight of the sapphire pendant, she nearly dropped the packaging as one hand shot up to her mouth. "Do you like it, Elsie?" She nodded, speechless, blinking back a tear.

"It's gorgeous, thank you," she finally whispered.

"You're the one who's gorgeous. May I help you put it on?" Again she simply nodded.

4:40 pm

Gwen had asked Elsie to deliver a reading during the ceremony and she was ever grateful for it meant they had car service to and from the church – important given the intensifying storm.

"Hello, I'm Elsie Hughes, I'm one of the readers." She had regained her composure and confidence in the meantime and introduced herself as Charles helped her take her coat off inside the church.

"Welcome, you look lovely, and oh my, look at that necklace! I'm Gareth Hillier, the wedding planner. My assistant Chloe here, will take you to the church office for your corsage and some instructions, then you may rejoin your husband. Mr. Hughes, perhaps you'd like to find seats in the sanctuary, before they fill up." With Elsie whisked away and Hillier beckoned by one of the musicians, neither had a chance to correct his assumption.

5:25 pm

Charles and Elsie stood with the rest of the guests when the wedding march began to play. They instinctively reached for one another's hand; their manicured fingers remained entangled as they sat again and all the way up until it was time for Elsie's reading at which point he stepped into the aisle and allowed her to pass.

She glided toward the side podium where the pastor met her and whispered in her ear before Elsie nodded and stepped up to take her place. She thumbed to her page in the bible and then looked up, making eye contact with Charles in the pew and smiled when he winked back. She touched the pendant then, a silent, "I love you," to him.

" _Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor:_

 _If either of them falls down, one can help the other up._

 _But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up._

 _Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm._

 _But how can one keep warm alone?_ \- Ecclesiastes 4:9"

He sat ramrod straight in his pew, taking in a deep breath at the words along with the sight of her, so beautiful, strong, clear of voice – as he alone realized the foretelling of his dedication to her. And before he knew it, her reading was over and she was on her way back to him, walking past the altar, a reassuring hand squeeze to Gwen as she passed before turning down the aisle. He could clearly see her autumnal-hued wrist corsage that picked up the hint of red in her hair and that showed off against the navy of her dress, and of course her new pendant. He stood again, and as Elsie resumed her spot beside him they both sat down and he reached for her hand once again, kissed her cheek and whispered, "I love you so much."

Relaxed now, quietly, she sniggered back, "Mutual, Mr. Hughes."

6:15 pm

An open bar featuring local ginger beer, Tennessee whisky and canapés greeted guests as they arrived, many drenched, at the Crown Spa's banquet room. The cake table featured traditional sticky Parkin with black treacle cream cheese frosting and a groom's cake covered in Fondant and decorated to look like a guitar atop a whisky barrel. Eventually, Gwen's father welcomed all and dinner was served, with the eclectic mix of Nashville meets Yorkshire continuing: brisket, hot chicken, Yorkshire pudding, carrots and greens served family style.

Elsie and Charles were seated at a table with three other couples including Gwen's aunt and uncle, and two sets of her parents' friends. Much of John's best man's humour was lost in translation, and whilst Charles had the least connection to Gwen at their table, none were more horrified than him at the young man's attempt at a joke about serving the "Southern delicacy" shrimp and _grits_ at the reception.

7:45 pm

After additional toasts and cake service, the real fun was about to begin. Garth Brooks' _To Make You Feel My Love_ kicked off the opening lyrics, _When the rain is blowing in your face.._., prompted Charles to whisper, "A bit prophetic, I'd say." She shushed him with a hand on his chest, as his arm was draped on the back of her chair. Next, Gwen and her father tearfully danced to Tim McGraw's _My Little Girl,_ followed by John and his mother to Barbara Mandrell's, _I was Country When Country wasn't Cool._

Printed playlists were set inside each table topper. The DJ generally introduced each song by calling out the number on the playlist and pausing before saying the name of the song and inviting the selector to make him- or herself known to the audience. But it was largely a reserved British crowd and an hour in, only those from the groom's side had really come forward.

Charles and Elsie had danced a few dances. In time, he'd wandered over to the bar and after chatting with Gwen's parents, Elsie returned to their table where she was sitting with Gwen's aunt again. She hardly heard the DJ announce, "Time for song 14, a classic from Conway Twitty _,"_ when Charles interrupted, tapping her on her bare shoulder. _"Excuse me ladies. Elsie, may I have this dance?"_

That she did hear, unexpected though it was. _"Sure, excuse me."_

"Anyone care to acknowledge their dedication of, _I'd Just Love to Lay You Down,_ the DJ asked the crowd. Charles placed his now empty tumbler of whisky on their table before waving his empty hand in the air.

"Alright! The big chap from table 12 with the beautiful lass in blue on his arm. Way to go mate, this one's for you!"

It was all happening so fast, Elsie couldn't process any of it until she was dancing in Charles's arms and the lyrics began.

 _There's a lot of ways of saying what I want to say to you_ _  
_ _There's songs and poems and promises and dreams that might come true_ _  
_ _But I won't talk of starry skies or moonlight on the ground_ _  
_ _I'll come right out and tell you I'd just love to lay you down_

Charles had been all serious for the first few lines and then broke into a big wide grin as the crowd came to life, as much at the lyrics themselves as Elsie's visible reaction to them – shock and awe followed by adoration and joy as she tipped her head back in a laugh. And then as the lyrics began again, they gazed into on another's eyes.

 _Lay you down and softly whisper pretty love words in your ear_ _  
_ _Lay you down and tell you all the things a woman loves to hear_ _  
_ _I'll let you know how much it means just havin' you around_ _  
_ _Oh darlin' how I'd love to lay you down_

 _There's so many ways your sweet love's made this house into a home_ _  
_ _You've got a way of doing little things that turn me on_ _  
_ _Like standing in the kitchen in your faded cotton gown_ _  
_ _With your hair still up in curlers I still love to lay you down_

 _Lay you down and softly whisper pretty love words in your ear_ _  
_ _Lay you down and tell you all the things a woman loves to hear_ _  
_ _I'll let you know how much it means just havin' you around_ _  
_ _Oh darlin' how I'd love to lay you down_

 _When a whole lot of Decembers are showin' in your face_ _  
_ _Your auburn hair has faded and silver takes its place_ _  
_ _You'll be just as lovely and if I'm still around_ _  
_ _Oh darlin' how I'd love to lay you down._

She was noticeably crying by the end and as the guests applauded their efforts, he handed her his handkerchief before using his own baritone to declare, "Love you darlin'," then planting a lingering kiss on her forehead.

She dashed to the women's toilet then, so touched by his love. He attempted to follow her yet a couple minutes later met her outside the door.

"Elsie, I'm sorry if that upset you."

"No, Charlie, no. It's just, oh, after that lovely dedication on your part it makes me a little embarrassed by mine for you."

She was nibbling on her lip, which he pointed out to her. "No worries, I'm sure."

Elsie heard the DJ again as they came back into the banquet room. "Oh Lord, it seems you're about to find out."

"Going once, going twice for song number 17, _A Good Hearted Woman?"_

"That's me!" Elsie called out, raising her arm.

"Ah, it's our stylish couple from a few songs ago, this time from her to him, by Mr. Waylon Jennings. Are you ready folks? This one's got a great up tempo, come on and join them."

 _A long time forgotten_ _  
_ _Are dreams that just fell by the way_ _  
_ _And the good life he promised_ _  
_ _Ain't what she's livin' today_

Charles found himself quite charmed by Elsie's embarrassed expression as he danced her around again. She was rolling her eyes at her selection playing through the speakers, "Charlie, if you don't like it, blame Anna!" He silenced her with a kiss that morphed into another wide grin that soon transferred to her lips as well.

 _But she never complains of the bad times_ _  
_ _Or bad things he's done, Lord_ _  
_ _She just talks about the good times_ _t_ _hey've had_

 _And all the good times to come_

 _She's a good hearted woman in love with a good timin' man_ _  
_ _And she loves him in spite of his wicked ways she don't understand_

Now it was Charles's turn to laugh heartily.

 _Through teardrops and laughter_ _  
_ _They'll pass through this world hand in hand_ _  
_ _A good hearted woman lovin' a good timin' man_

 _He likes the bright lights, night life and good timin' friends_ _  
_ _When the party's all over she'll welcome him back home again_ _  
_ _Though she don't understand him but she does the best that she can_ _  
_ _To be a good hearted woman lovin' her good timin' man_

By the time the next stanza played, Elsie was fully into it, singing along and improvising on the lyrics, making Charles howl with laughter.

 _She's a good hearted woman in love with a good timin' man_ _  
_ _And she loves him in spite of his [cricket] ways that she don't understand_

 _Through teardrops and laughter_ _  
_ _They'll pass through this world hand in hand_ _  
_ _A good hearted woman lovin' a good timin' man_

 _She's a good hearted woman in love with a good timin' man_ _  
_ _And she loves me in spite of my Mickey Mouse ways and things she don't understand_

As the song wrapped up, they were applauding and Charles received a few claps on the back from complete strangers. "Oh, you're the best, Elsie!"

"You aren't insulted?"

"Not in the least," he chuckled. "Tina Turner recorded that song as well. And I've a _long_ time celebrity crush on Tina Turner!"

He'd never shared this personal tidbit and she found it sweet. "You think she's sexy?"

"Yes, but not as sexy as you, my love."

Undoubtedly, the alcohol had something to do with it but the crowd was now livelier than ever. They danced a few more dances together before Elsie opted to sit out in consideration of her aching feet. Gwen had nabbed him anyway and as they twirled around, Elsie watched them. He was hands-down the most handsome man at the reception; filling in his tuxedo marvelously. Yet truthfully, she couldn't wait to get him out of it.

When he came over then, warmed from all the dancing and took off his jacket, she didn't mind in the least. As he sat next to her caressing her long leg which ended in gorgeous navy ankle strap sandal, they watched a few more dances before hearing a slow one start up and he took her out on the dance floor once more.

He held her swaying hips whilst her arms wrapped around his neck and together they laughed, nuzzled, and whispered some of those sweet, pretty love words in one another's ears. As the song wound to a close, he smiled at her. "Elsie?"

"Yes, Charlie?"

"I'd just love to lay you down."

He grabbed his jacket, she her clutch and together they made their way upstairs to their room where they hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on their door knob before he laid her down and they made sweet love together.

Afterward, both sated and warmed from their activities, limbs tangled together, she fingered his soft nipple.

" _If two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?"_ She kissed his chest then. "Sing to me Charlie," she then rested her cheek on his shoulder and squeezed his middle when he hadn't yet begun.

Then softly, he began, " _There's a lot of ways of saying what I want to say to you…"_ _  
_


	89. Chapter 89: Loyal

Sunday, 11 November 2018

8:15 am

Elsie woke with a start, pushing her bare torso off the mattress and kicking at the white sheet until her legs were free of it. She stilled then, her bare bottom and feet the only things touching the mattress as she leaned forward, her left elbow resting on her left knee as she fanned herself with her right hand.

Charles had observed all this from the chair in the corner – the one he'd fallen asleep in Friday afternoon. "Sleeping Beauty awakens, answering her own question, ' _But how can one keep warm alone?'"_

Rubbing her forehead after glimpsing her reflection, she replied, "Sleeping Beauty, my arse!"

"Your arse and everthing else!" He chuckled, prompting her to throw a pillow in his direction. "Hey now! Sorry, love, whomever wrote Ecclesiastes never experienced hot flashes, it seems."

"No wonder, Charlie. I haven't had Sex in three days!"

He looked at her quizzically before putting down his paper and sidling over to her on the bed.

"If you haven't had sex in three days, then whom was I making love to Friday night…and yesterday, twice, hmm?" He planted a series of soft kisses to her brow.

"Not that sex – my smoothie; it's been three days since I had one." Fingering the fitted sheet to her right, she added, "As for the other kind, it seems we're leaving some evidence behind for housekeeping to whisk away."

He surmised what she was speaking of. He muttered, "Yes, well, I'll leave a good tip."

"You best, the housekeepers are the hardest working of all in hotels. Charlie, what time is it that you want to leave?"

"9:15, at the latest."

"Ok, I best get a move on."

9:10 am

From the dash, Charles handed her a small plastic container. "Here, I ordered one for each of us as well."

"Of course, lovely." She pinned on the poppy, making sure the leaf pointed toward 11 o'clock. "Thank you, Charlie." The red of the flower complemented the blue sapphire pendant that she'd put on this morning along with her white blouse, navy trousers and pumps.

"No, thank you."

At Charles's request, they were making a little detour this morning, Armistice Day, to Harrogate rather than straight back to London.

"Tell me more Charlie, about your great uncle."

"Well, obvious or not, he's whom I was named after. He was my granddad's older brother, by a dozen years or so, the second Carson in that generation. Uncle Charlie served in his majesty's cavalry and was injured in World War I, hit with shrapnel in his legs and back and he also lost an eye."

"When he returned from the war, he was in a military hospital for some time. Became quite the yakker so the nurses would keep him company. Eventually, he moved in with his assorted grown siblings, the last my grandparents. My father adored him, Uncle Charlie's love of horses was the reason he chose to work in the stables. When my granddad's palsy eventually worsened, it was decided that Uncle Charlie would best live out his years in an old soldier's home. He moved to Royal Hospital Chelsea when I was a young lad. Occasionally, we'd take the train down, visit him in London."

His face brightened at the recollection. "If not for Uncle Charlie, I mightn't have fallen for London so early. I loved the noise, the pace, the smells, the grandeur, the scale of it all. Oh, and he was the first one to teach me magic." He grew melancholy then. "He died when I was 8 or 9, can't remember exactly, but I remember him. Often, on Armistice Day, I'll go down to the Royal Hospital – have you ever been?" She shook her head. "Another time then, as it's quite lovely. For today though, Harrogate."

She encouraged him to tell more stories of Uncle Charlie and he did so, almost all the way to the Commonwealth War Graves Commission Cemetery where they were headed this morning. Only, when they were barely on the bypass north of York, she'd stopped listening. Something else had caught her attention, and he'd barely noticed so lost was he in reminiscing.

10:58 am

There was no formal service at this cemetery today, for most of those buried here were from the Second World War. But Charles remembered where Uncle Charlie's grave was and after narrowing to a couple of rows, he found the headstone with its etched letters bearing his name too.

PFC Charles Carson

WIA, WWI

1890-1965

"I think while the clock strikes, we should both make a silent prayer to mark the finish of that terrible war – 100 years hence – and what it meant for each and every one."

Silently, she agreed and as his mobile turned 11:00, he solemnly laid the wreath of red poppies against the stone and stepped back beside Elsie. After a moment, he cleared his throat and she opened her eyes then too. "If you'll indulge me, Elsie." And he recited from memory:

 _In Flanders fields the poppies blow_

 _Between the crosses, row on row,_

 _That mark our place; and in the sky_

 _The larks, still bravely singing, fly_

 _Scarce heard amid the guns below._

 _We are the Dead. Short days ago_

 _We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,_

 _Loved and were loved, and now we lie,_

 _In Flanders fields._

 _Take up our quarrel with the foe:_

 _To you from failing hands we throw_

 _The torch; be yours to hold it high._

 _If ye break faith with us who die_

 _We shall not sleep, though poppies grow_

 _In Flanders fields._

"Thank you for those beautiful words and your service, Lieutenant Colonel McCrae. And thank you, Uncle Charlie."

"Yes, thank you both and thousands of others."

He took out his handkerchief then, wiped his eyes. "Sorry, Elsie, I'm afraid I'm a little emotional."

She closed the gap between them, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Reasonably so, you dear sweet man. You honour your uncle today and you're good at such gestures, though they aren't always easy."

"No, no they aren't." After a few lingering moments of silence, he turned then, "Let's go home."

1:10 pm

They'd stopped for pies in Grantham, Charles vaguely recalling some distant family connection of Robert's when Elsie asked. They'd both been quiet on the drive down. Only now, as they sat at their corner table waiting for their food to be delivered, he found her unusually quiet still. And so he leaned over and took her hand in his.

"Beyond needing sex to make up for the last three days, a penny for your thoughts, Ms. Hughes."

She grimaced then, sitting back in her chair. Should she tell him? "You didn't see it, did you?"

"See what?"

"The road sign, when we were driving around York."

"No. What?"

"Haxby. Made me think of Haxby Park." He needed another clue. "Richard…Carlisle." Oh, that name rang a bell, and he sat up straighter. "Unfortunately, I have actually been thinking a lot of him of late."

"Oh, Elsie, what on earth triggered that?"

"Your invitation to move in, Charlie."


	90. Chapter 90: That Dog Will Hunt

Friday, 16 November 2018

It baffled Charles how utterly in sync he and Elsie were on some things (Brexit, for example, and which side of the bed they preferred) and yet at sixes and sevens with one another on others (e.g. local politics and morning coffee versus tea). And whilst it wasn't a case of their disagreeing - as they'd barely discussed it - he really didn't understand Elsie's associating his invitation to move in with that sod Carlisle.

She'd attempted to explain on their drive home Sunday what a challenge to her hard-earned independence moving in together would be, let alone the safety net her own home represented to her (for there was no question which of their two dwellings was more suitable to cohabitation). He listened to all her logic, loved her for what she had survived and gone on to achieve in her life, but mostly - because he promised she could take all the time she needed - he did not push. But it frustrated him and he kept that frustration to himself to the point where just as Elsie was the one to not be sleeping well last week, Charles hadn't slept well this week over the question of her moving in. And his tremor had started acting up.

This morning, they worked together in Elsie's yard and she noticed his shaking after some time. He lied, said it was his arm from all the lifting and shoveling.

After an early lunch they'd brought, Elsie was taking Becky shopping. He saw an opportunity for a long bicycle ride.

3:17 pm

He'd rode east semi along the Thames before heading south and more or less following the perimeter of the city. To add to his work out, he'd climbed whatever elevations the landscape of London afforded. He'd already hit the city's highest point, Westerham Heights in Bromley and its second, Sanderstead Plantation in Croydon. The physical exertion had cleared his head some, as he hoped it would. He stood now, straddling his bike's top tube atop the fourth highest point, a peak just north of Manor Hill in Sutton. He was surprised when he heard his mobile ring and pleased he could reach it when he realized it was Elsie. "Hello, love."

"Charlie, you're answering? I thought you'd be pedaling along."

"Just on a brief rest."

"I hope you aren't overdoing it, what with the garden work this morning and all. Where are you by the way?"

"Big Wood."

She sniggered, "We must have a bad connection, I asked _where_ are you, not _what_ are you."

"Elsie!" He looked around him then, as if anyone else had actually heard their conversation. "You shouldn't say such things around Becky."

"Oh, relax, Charlie." Then lowering her voice she added, "She's already heard such speculation about you ages ago - from Beryl!"

He cleared his throat, "Nonetheless...where are _you_?"

"At the stationer's store now. Would Sybbie like a Paddington Bear writing set, you think?"

"She might, but who's she going to write long-hand? I sent her a pen pal kit last year and she never used it with _me_. Best find something else."

"Ok, we'll keep looking. Um, do you mind if Becky spends the night? She's been asking."

"Of course not, my home is her home," and yours, he thought.

"Good, I'm hoping we can together chat with her about the gallery exhibit idea, now that it appears it has some legs."

Looking down at his own bare legs that were now a little chilled as the shadows grew, he added, "I'll be home in about an hour. Can you fetch something for dinner? I'll prepare."

4:15 pm

"Charlie!" Dogs and Becky clambered to greet him as he came in the door in his helmet, windbreaker and lycra. She'd never seen him in his riding shorts and like her sister way back when, her eye was drawn to his revealing shorts. Beryl was right, Becky thought. Charles noticed and made to cover himself up with his unzipped jacket.

"Hello Becky, Violet, Igor. Lovely to see you all," he kissed Becky's cheek then. "Where's Elsie?"

"Laying out some things she bought for you. We bought pizza dough and toppings, so you'll make pizza for us, please?"

"Yes, please, Charlie?"

His face lit up then, "There she is, there's my lass. Hi sweetheart."

"Hi Charlie."

"So, pizza?"

"Let him catch his breath, Becky. Goodness, you aren't hungry yet are you?"

"I'm always hungry for pizza - Charlie's pizza, especially!"

"Well, it's going to be a while. The oven and pizza stone need to warm and then the pizza needs time to cook and before all that, I'm guessing Charlie would like a shower."

"Yes, Charlie would indeed like a shower."

"You go ahead, love. Becky, maybe you could get started on our salad, give you something to do in the meantime."

Charles made his way to his bedroom then as Elsie helped pull kitchen tools from their various hiding places. She followed him momentarily and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his upper body bare as he untied a shoe.

"What's all this?" he nodded in the direction of three shopping bags.

"Gifts, for Sybbie - and for you."

"What'd you find?" He was now working on removing the corresponding sock.

"Whilst we were talking, Becky found a wonderful book for Sybbie, PAPER LONDON. It has die cut paper models of 20 London landmarks, step-by-step instructions for each and a map of London that shows their locations. You just need a ruler and some glue."

"Sounds brilliant, but maybe a little complicated assembly for a 7-year old." Charles dropped his second shoe. "I can't believe it - 7!"

"Well, complicated were she to tackle on her own, but I thought it would be nice for you two to work on together. I'm sure you saw all of those landmarks this summer."

He considered that and started nodding. "I like your thinking, Ms. Hughes. What else?" He started to work on the last sock.

"Well, the rest is for you. Ironic at the moment given the first bag has some new socks."

"Socks?! That's no fun."

"Well, new socks are more fun than me sitting down to darn your holey ones." He grumbled his agreement. "Besides, you might like what's in this last bag more." He'd pulled his lycra down then and was kicking it off his ankles as he stood before her, naked.

"After socks, I would hope so. What is it?"

She sniggered, responding to the opportunity - and then some - in front of her. "Underthings." He gave her a look then, and started to walk toward the en suite. "Charlie, stop!" He stopped, turned to oblige her as he heard her digging into the bag. "Underthings - for me." Indeed they were; for she held beautiful, minuscule little bits of fabric and lace between her two hands and simply smiled. He walked toward her then, his bits bobbing freely.

"Oh, Ms. Hughes, thank you, thank you!" He had her in his arms and waggled his eyebrows before he kissed her reverently. "Join me in shower, would you?"

"Charlie, I can't, not with Becky out there, a knife in her hand. You go take your shower and I'll put these in the wash. I bet by the time we're ready for bed, they'll be dry enough to wear."

"And if they aren't?"

"Then, I'll just have to do without entirely!"

"Ms. Hughes, I _really_ like your thinking now!"

7:45 pm

They'd long since finished their pizza, the dogs with their dinners and a walk and all were settled comfortably in the den enjoying a fire, sherries, tea and biscuits. Elsie broached the subject that she herself wasn't all that enthused about but had promised she'd follow through with the central figure in this plot: Becky. For Rita Bevan, Simon's art agent friend and her friend had stepped up to the challenge and found a gallery where Becky's drawings and paintings and other artists' with disabilities work might go on display and of course be for sale. They were proposing an opening night event and everything. It had all gone from the abstract to really possible and as she was the one fielding the pressure, she needed to run it past Becky. The younger Hughes sister was excited at first and then cautious as Elsie outlined her concerns about publicity that would attract Richard Carlisle's attention. Damn, there was that asshole's name again, Charles thought.

Becky innocently protested the Carlisle concerns; she had some sense of the man's evil but not to the degree that Elsie did. And so it was Elsie who was trying very hard to help her sister see that a gallery exhibit featuring Becky's name was a bad idea. "But can't they use a stage name?"

"Stage name?"

"Like Lady Gaga."

"I think you mean a pseudonym, Becky," Charles sipped his sherry, with his arm draped around Elsie's shoulders.

"You aren't helping," she needled him.

"Yes, he is!"

"Oh, stop it, Thistle!"

"That's it, Elsie! That could be my pseudo - whatever Charlie said."

"What's this?"

"Becky's middle name is Heather, like the flower, but when she was little and having a tantrum, Da called her Thistle instead - because of her prickliness. I don't think Thistle would be a name to build an event around, Becky."

Ah, but Becky heard in her reply an opening. "But Heather would be?"

"Aye, Heather would probably be okay."

"But you still would need a surname, Becky, and I agree with Elsie, it shouldn't be Hughes," he took another sip.

"Well, then it would be Carson of course. Heather Carson." Charles and Elsie looked at one another, surprised. Elsie realizing she'd backed herself in a corner.

"Are you going to help me out of this?" He just shook his head no. "Oh Lord, I guess we're going to an art gallery. But Charlie, you _do_ need to help me, there's no way I can put time into any preparations."

"I will," he pledged, a little delayed and discombobulated as he realized in that moment of Becky choosing his name as her own, that he'd asked Elsie the wrong question when he asked her to move in. He should have asked her to marry him.


	91. Chapter 91: Chasing Tail

Monday, 19 November 2018

6:15 pm

"Well, if you can't get it down over your ears, try the XXL." Elsie grabbed another helmet. "Here."

His voice was muffled but she understood Charles to say, "Much better, thanks."

"Ha! Charlie you look like a Stormtrooper to my Darth Vader!" a spirited Bill exclaimed.

"Alright folks, now that you're set with your helmets, give me your attention for other safety and driving instructions. May I have a volunteer?"

It was Charles' quarter birthday and, in keeping with his rules for such days, Elsie had arranged something that he indeed had never done – indoor Go Kart racing – and invited Bill and Beryl to join them in the fun and dinner afterward.

Bill climbed easily into the sidelined kart as the track supervisor coached him through proper placement of the seat and harness fastening.

"Lord above, it's just like that thunder vest we gave you for Igor."

"Yeah, and you're going to have a helluva time getting it around your bosom," Elsie teased Beryl.

"Minx!"

"Unless there are questions, we can get you into your karts for your first race." Charles raised his hand.

"And how fast will these go?"

"Upwards of 40 mph on the straightaways. Test 'em out when you get on the track. Remember, the first lap is not timed. Okay, 'Mrs. Franchitti', you'll be in car 93 right up front here."

"What's that for, Beryl?"

"Dario Franchitti, of course. He's a modern day Rudolph Valentino!"

"Ooh, _and_ he's Scottish!"

"Then 'Colt' in 51, 'Doc', you're in 69 behind him – always prefer to give that one to adults like yourselves, not the teenagers you'll be alternating the track with."

"Woo-hoo, Bill's got 69!" Beryl exclaimed as she was settling in her seat.

"And 'Scottish Dragon', you're in the back, number 11."

"Good luck, Colt!" Elsie patted his arm as she strode past. In more ways that one, Charles thought as he stared down at his kart wondering how the hell he was supposed to fit in the thing. Somehow he folded himself in, three times over the course of the next hour, but unfolding after each set of laps was the bigger test.

Over pints afterward, the foursome laughed about their respective entry and egress experiences and the time on the track. How the supervisor had emphasized it was all about improving their individual times; but in fact Elsie was out to win! Which she did, including in the second race when she passed Charles who'd started one position in front of her, and in the last race when she passed all three, thanks to a crash that Beryl had caused and the men were too close behind to avoid. "Bloody hell!" they'd all muttered as Elsie waved as she passed.

7:34 pm

"You alright there, Charlie-Boy?" Beryl asked as he rubbed his right bicep.

"I'll be fine, just understood them to be Go Karts, not Bumper Cars."

"I can still feel it in my arms as well. A little liniment and a hot bath tonight and we'll be right as rain in the morn."

"So says Ms. Leadfoot. Heck, I could barely rotate my ankle to accelerate I was so crammed in the bloody things! Anyone need another pint?" He raised his arm for their waitress.

"Not me, I'm going to go use the loo."

Elsie was no sooner out of earshot when Charles leaned in to them both. "Good, I wanted a word alone. Things are progressing nicely between us, me and Elsie. Most recently – very recently, in fact – I've thought of proposing."

"Charlie!" Beryl slapped him joyfully on his sore arm.

"Ow!"

"That's brilliant, mate!" Bill congratulated him.

"Yes, well, I already asked her to move in and she hasn't said yes to that."

"Not surprised, that shit Carlisle dragged her through."

"She said as much, but I don't know if we're to stay as we are forever or –"

"If she'd say yes to marriage?" Charles nodded. "Here she comes. Don't worry, I'll help sort that out." Elsie rejoined them just as their burgers were delivered.

And as Beryl dressed hers with HP sauce, she improvised, "Elsie I'm taking Friday off to prepare for Friday's poker night. I was hoping you and Phyllis would come over early, lend a hand? We could start our fun before the lads arrived. What'dya say?"


	92. Chapter 92: Huckleberyl Hound

Friday, 23 November 2018

1:30 pm

"A whole peck of apples, Beryl?"

"To be peeled and sliced! C'mon, I'll pour ya a cuppa!"

After hanging her coat, Elsie found a vase for the flowers she'd brought along and noted the dinner preparations underway. "You're the only person I know who has three slow cookers, Beryl."

"And I can't believe you don't even have one!" Though tonight's gathering was an annual tradition, this afternoon was a once in a lifetime opportunity, so Beryl launched right in. "But Charlie cooks a lot don't he? You don't have to come home 'n fix _anything_."

"Aye, not usually. And Charlie's a good cook." Beryl waited for the requisite follow up, "Not as good as you, of course. Nor do I know how he'd do feeding a crowd." Elsie wondered what Beryl ever did when it was just her and Bill. "So, apples?" Beryl handed her a knife.

As Elsie peeled and sliced, the two friends discussed their respective weekend plans. The Masons were due to pick up Chuck the pup once and for all, so they needed to puppy proof the house. Sunday's Grantham family gathering - at Sybil and Tom's - included Elsie, Charles and Becky.

Two filled, 9" pie tins later, Beryl studied the remaining slices, "I'll get out my 12", that'll take care of them. Besides, I was going to send one pie home with you, maybe you want to take that one Sunday?"

"Good idea; I know Charlie loves apple pie."

"Oh does he? Well, they always say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach!"

Phyllis arrived, apologetic for her tardiness. But it was part of Beryl's plan; she couldn't keep the possibility of an engagement entirely quiet and had thought if Phyllis showed up later she'd spark additional chatter.

"Sorry, Joe had a doctor's appointment," Phyllis rolled her eyes. "Midlife crisis – he's gone and gotten two tattoos in recent months! This last one got infected."

All knew Bill had a vintage one. "Elsie, does Charlie have any tats?"

"No, plain as the day he was born."

"His poor mother, had to have been a painful birth."

"Charlie said he was a big bairn."

"Once big, always big! So Phyllis, what's the root of Joe's crisis?"

"Beryl!"

"What, you're the therapists, not me! So, what'dya say, Phyllis? You know we can keep a secret," she winked. Phyllis knew Beryl couldn't, but at the same time, she was glad to talk about it with friends.

"ED."

"Oh, that's tough. You know, Bill has to take a pill now. Thank God for those little buggers." They each worked away for a bit on their respective pies – Phyllis on mini Minces, Beryl on her huckleberries. "Elsie, does Charlie have any issues - down there?"

"You're extra nosy today."

"Well, I figured there has to be some flaw to the man."

Elsie just shook her head, Beryl proving again there was nothing she wouldn't say or ask. "No problems, not yet. He's wonderful - down there - and otherwise."

"Good," Beryl giggled mischievously. "So what's it like with someone his size –"

"Beryl!"

Eventually, Daisy arrived, straight from Yew Tree, looking forward to sitting down. "Doc let me leave early. How can I help?"

"Wash your hands and then you set the table."

"Nonsense, Daisy. We've got this and Charlie sets a wonderful table. Let him set it when he gets here."

" _And_ , he sets a wonderful table," Beryl whispered under her breath to Phyllis who was impressed.

"What's that, Beryl?"

"I said it's 5:00 somewhere, let's drink!"

A few minutes later, Daisy inquired, "How's Igor, Ms. Hughes?"

"Still ill-behaved. Why just last night when Charlie came to walk me home –"

"Wait! Mr. Carson came to walk you home?"

"Aye, he does, every Thursday when I'm at work late."

"Gosh, if I had a boyfriend who came to walk me home after work, I'd marry him!"

"That she ought!" Beryl quickly covered her mouth with both hands, realizing she let that one slip. Elsie eyed her suspiciously at which point Beryl asked with more reserve, "Well, would you?"

Both Phyllis and Elsie were surprised. But Beryl was waiting for an answer, as she made clear lifting her highball to her lips and waggling her eyebrows.

"Well," Elsie bit on her lower lip. "I suppose if he were to ask…I'd first want to know what terms he had in mind. But yes, I'd probably say yes," she grinned.

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A/N: Thankful for a review or two.


	93. Chapter 93: Dogs Playing Poker

Friday, 23 November 2018

6:00 pm

"Look what Carson the Magnificent dragged in: Thomas Barrow!"

"Hi, Beryl," Thomas kissed her on the cheek and presented the liquor bottle in his hand. "Room for one more? Mr. Carson and I stopped in at The Cellar."

"Always, especially one with a tipple. Oh, a bottle of His Lordship's brandy." Charles handed her a bottle also, "Oh, whiskey too! Thank you both!"

Charles explained his plus one. "When I was bringing the dog back in, I found Thomas moping around the lobby only to learn Simon's away for the weekend. Got pretty excited when I mentioned poker, hard liquor and Beryl Mason's cooking."

"And baking by Elsie Hughes and Phyllis Molesley, too!"

"Oh really, love?" Charles greeted the aproned Elsie. "Can't wait to see what you've made."

"Well, first you need to set the table. Good thing we waited, Daisy, another place and all."

Soon after, placemats, chargers, soup bowls, linen napkins, napkin rings and cutlery were set around the table for eight whilst the slow cookers were brought out to the sideboard for a buffet of tomato-based beef and kidney bean chili, vegetarian black bean and corn chili and cream-based oyster stew with an array of cheeses, water biscuits, and fresh loaves of bread that Joe Molesley brought. In no time, Bill Mason was mixing drinks and all sitting down for the feast that later progressed to the pudding course.

7:10 pm

"Anyone for another helping of pie or are we ready to start dealing?" Bill asked the table.

At one end, Charles was contemplating, Elsie could tell from her seat on Beryl's far side. Charles' mouth opened but before he could request another slice, Elsie interrupted, "I'm feeling like my Monday luck on the track will continue and vote we start."

"Well then, let's get to it," Beryl agreed. "Elsie, Phyllis, you did enough earlier. If Charlie-Boy and Thomas will help me clear the table, Joe and Daisy can get the cards and chips out. Bill, you refresh our drinks."

"Ah, Joe's had enough," Phyllis clarified; he'd already shared the tattoo on his chest.

Charles and Thomas each made two trips from the dining room before Charles stayed beside Beryl to help load the dishwasher - and hear what she'd learned earlier. "Well, what do you think?" he asked anxiously.

"Oh, yes, we got there in the end."

"Meaning?"

Charles was stooped over affording Beryl the ability to easily pat his shoulder encouragingly, "Meaning, she'll say yes. She just needs to hear your expectations."

Tears of joy filled his eyes then as he kissed Beryl's cheek and whispered, "Thank you!"

10:05 pm

Thomas was putting on his coat, leaving to join other friends for drinks as Bill dealt the last hand. It had been Joe's night as he won more than his share of five-card draws.

Daisy had lost interest some time ago and was standing behind Charles simply enjoying her drink. "His Lordship's whiskey is absolutely delicious," she noted taking another swig.

"Not as much as his brandy," Beryl countered, raising her glass.

"I'm out," Charles said as he folded.

On Charles' left, Joe laid down his hand presuming he'd won again, "Three kings," he said smugly, reaching for the chips.

"Not so fast, buster. Full house, ladies over sevens," Elsie countered, fanning her cards out on the table. While Joe's spirit fell, the rest chortled and pounded the table at Elsie's win.

Soon after, the Molesleys helped clean up then departed as well, offering to drop Daisy on their way. Bill went upstairs to take an emergency call from one of his patient's owners as Beryl set about fixing up a basket for Charles and Elsie to take home. Charles hadn't moved from his chair yet and so Elsie walked over and nudged his knee until he moved, allowing her to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she rested her head on his shoulder, fiddling with his shirt buttons and asked, "Fun night?"

"Very. We should have them over to our place sometime soon."

"You mean your place."

"I mean ours, Elsie, ours."

She quickly changed the subject, "Joe was getting a little pissed though, as he sometimes does."

He chuckled, "No, we didn't want Mr. Molesley to take any more clothes off." He kissed her head then, and Elsie curled into him further.

"Too bad Bill's a little rusty on his aviary, seems we got a couple of love birds nesting in our dining room. Got your basket all ready," Beryl hoisted it with two hands onto the table then put it down with a thud. "You two oughtta get home with the way you're behavin'."

"What about Bill?"

"He could be awhile. Plus, you've got a dog at home yourselves."

"Thanks for the reminder, Beryl. We probably should go."

10:45 pm

Back at South Bank Tower, Elsie lifted the pie from the basket.

"My word, that pie is huge! It's like an American pie!"

"You didn't just say that, did you?"

"Say what?"

"American Pie."

"I did, why?"

"Well, it is an apple pie."

"So?"

She chuckled, confusing him all the more. "I guess you never saw the American coming-of-age film about the lad wondering what vaginal sex feels like." He clearly hadn't and wondered where this was going. "Well, that's the punch line - his experienced mate tells him it feels like apple pie. So to confirm, he -" and she gestured, crudely.

"Put his knob in a pie?" Elsie doubled over in laughter at the look of horror on Charles' face then. "Thanks a lot. I'll never look at an apple pie the same way ever again. I loved apple pie," he pouted.

When Elsie could contain herself, she came nearer and fiddled with his errant curl, teasing, "Why don't you hurry along with Igor's walk and when you return, I'll have some pie waiting for you."

At that suggestion, his spirit soared and he kissed her cheek, "I love Ms. Hughes, I really love you."

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A/N: Cheers to DA's 2014 TEXT SANTA video for some of tonight's inspiration.


	94. Chapter 94: One in Dog Years

Sunday, 25 November 2018

2:15 pm

 _"_ _Happy Birthday dear Sybbie,_

 _Happy Birthday to you!"_

"Make a wish, baby girl," Tom encouraged his daughter from across the makeshift dining table as he recorded the moment on his mobile.

"Daddy, I'm not a baby anymore, I'm seven!"

"Sybbie, darling; you'll always be my baby."

"Blow out your candles, sweetheart," Sybil instructed from beside her husband.

This was a dual purpose family gathering; moments before, as they all donned brightly coloured tissue paper hats, the afternoon at the Bransons' morphed from a quasi-traditional American Thanksgiving to Sybbie's birthday party. Becky had thoughtfully distributed the hats to their wearers, coordinating clothing colours whenever possible.

The guest of honour was seated along one of the table's long sides in a treasured spot between Charles and Robert. Clockwise around from Robert sat Maggie, Elsie, Becky, Tom, Rosamund, Marigold, Edith, and Duke, on Charles' right. Two vacant seats – one between Becky and Tom, the other between Duke and Charles – belonged to Cora and Sybil, respectively, before they had carried puddings in from the kitchen.

Before the meal, Tom had led a toast of Thanks – mainly to health and togetherness including Edith and Marigold all the way from Switzerland for the weekend and new additions Elsie and Becky to the annual gathering. Becky and Marigold (with help from Edith) were given the honours of breaking the wishbone for Sybbie of course had the honour of her birthday wish accompanied with candles.

Whilst the ribbon in the birthday lass's hair kept it out of her ice cream cake as she leaned in, it did not keep her from inadvertently spitting on its top. Such is life when you're seven, it's your birthday and you're also missing a front tooth. Most were too far away to have noticed, those who did were too polite to point it out. Maggie and Robert, for example, simply graciously requested plain apple pie.

Charles had also noticed; regardless, like Sybbie, he asked solely for ice cream.

"Charles Carson, I've known you for 40 years and I don't recall you _ever_ turning down apple pie even once before!"

"Truthfully, Maggie, I've already had a fair share of Elsie's _apple pie_ this weekend," Charles proudly boasted, the comment lost on everyone except Elsie herself who choked on her tea when she heard his reply.

"Oh, is that so?" Maggie nodded to Charles before turning to pat Elsie's arm. "Well, it's remarkable pie, Elsie, almost as remarkable as that Sapphire pendant you're wearing."

"Thank you, yes," she fingered the necklace, "It's a recent and lovely gift from Charlie and as partial thanks, there's more pie waiting for him at home." As Elsie appeared to turn her attention back to her plate, she winked her left eye at Charles whose spoon slipped out of his hand at her touché. The only other one to notice the wink was Robert who had observed other flirting going on between Charles and Elsie this afternoon.

With pudding finished, all retired to the parlour where a large pile of presents awaited Sybbie. As she settled on the floor, Sybil joined her daughter and Marigold, the other adults stood or sat, as did Charles and Elsie, together on a settee where Charles' thumb stroked the back of Elsie's hand in his.

Maggie insisted that her gifts be the first opened – a basket with three stuffed animal dogs – a mini yellow Isis, a mini black Violet complete with red service vest and mini grey Igor; Sybbie frequently mentioned the dogs to her great-grandmother making the gift a natural. From Edith and family, there was a toy doctor's kit complete with functional stethoscope, other toys and clothes were gifted by Auntie Ros and Uncle Duke, Granny and Donk.

From C.C., L.C. and Becky was the PAPER LONDON book and a pale blue dressing gown. "But I already have one," Sybbie noted.

Elsie clarified, "Not one that you can leave at CC's."

"Munchkin, we are hopeful you'll spend the night regularly. Sometime soon we can construct the landmarks in the paper book." Maggie noted Charles' choice of the word "we." In truth, Sybil had spoken with Charles ahead of time, mentioning Tom's need for work travel particularly in December and as she settled in to working at a new hospice, there may be occasion where they needed childcare help making it difficult for Cora to come to town quickly enough. Of course, Charles was more than willing to oblige, though he made clear his and Elsie's upcoming travel dates for Australia.

Finally, there was a card and envelope from Tom and Sybil. Inside Sybbie found a gift card to a local hardware store, THE TOOL SHOP, and was once more confused. Sybil had spoken with Charles about this as well. "Sweetheart, maybe this will help clarify your gift," Tom approached, carrying a rather large but lightweight parcel. As Sybbie tore into the wrapping paper she screamed with delight as she saw a metal cage and water dispenser. As Tom hugged their little girl, Sybil explained to the others. "Sybbie has been absolutely obsessed with the two floppy eared rabbits in her classroom, Harry and Will."

Crestfallen, Sybbie added, "They're my _only_ friends in London."

To which Becky, gesturing to Violet at her feet said, "We'll be your friends." The genuine kindness was noted by the adults; Charles and Elsie proudest of all.

"Now, Sybbie, the cage is for transporting your own rabbits. But they'll need somewhere larger to live. The gift card to the hardware store is so that you can buy the supplies that are needed to build their own outdoor hutch. Whatever money you have left determines how many rabbits you can buy." Hidden in the message to her daughter was this would be a great, real-life Science, Technology, Engineering and Math (STEM) project. "If you only knew an architect who might help you design and build a hutch for them."

Sybbie considered what she'd just been told and realization dawned when Charles deliberately cleared his throat rather loudly. Sybbie's eyes lit up as she turned to Charles, excitedly. "C.C.! Will you help me design my rabbit hutch?"

"Of course, munchkin, I'd love to. We'll make another London landmark! And our friend Dr. Mason is a veterinarian. We can include him in our plans to understand what rabbits need. When we have the hutch built, I'm sure he can help us find you good, healthy rabbits!"

"What's a vetervarian?"

"An animal doctor," Becky explained, proud to know the word, and Bill.

"I want to be an animal doctor!"

"You can be anything you want, sweetheart."

Rosamund and Duke were the first to leave. When Marigold began to have a meltdown, Edith accompanied her upstairs for a nap. Elsie left then, promising to return after dropping Becky off at home. Tom went to take Igor and Isis for a walk and whilst Cora and Sybil tended to the kitchen, Sybbie was left in the care of Maggie, Robert and Charles.

Sybbie pretended to listen to her toy animals' hearts and then to the adults'. After Robert and Charles' hearts had both been listened to, Maggie asked, "Sybbie, whose heart is beating faster, Donk or C.C.'s?"

"C.C.'s is a lot faster."

"You don't say?" Conveniently, Sybbie was called to the kitchen just then, leaving the three adults behind. "Charles, I am not surprised if your heart really is beating faster than Robert's. Your affection for and attachment to Elsie is stronger than ever and that new sapphire pendant - lovely! But Charles, I think what Elsie really needs from you is a diamond!"

"I couldn't agree more with Mama. What about a ring?"

"Well, yes, I have given it some thought and there's one that I saw that I've been meaning to get information on but -"

Sybbie suddenly reappeared and Charles hushed. "What were you talking about?"

"Rabbits, dear. How rabbits like carats," Maggie tittered.

11:00 pm

Elsie had been reading in bed for nearly the last hour whilst Charles sat in his office reading up on rabbit hutches and sketching. In her nightdress, Elsie approached from behind and leaned over, running her hands down his chest. "Charlie, come to bed, my feet are cold."

"Are they now? Let me have a feel." Elsie lifted her right foot up to Charles' side and he grabbed it with both hands. "Good God, woman, your foot is colder than Sybbie's ice cream cake!"

"Aye, so I told you. And you, my man, are warmer than, well, than an apple pie fresh out of the oven!"

"You and apple pie will be the death of me," he chuckled. "Come here, you." Charles set down his reading glasses and welcomed Elsie onto his lap. Noting the sketches, Elsie teased, "Charles Carson, RIBA has relaunched his career with a focus on the design of rabbit hutches. Mr. Carson, would you care to explain the choice?"

"Minx!"

"Rabbits, Mr. Carson, not minks!" She pecked his lips then before he started tickling her for which she begged him to stop.

Gazing into her eyes as he brushed her hair back, Charles admitted, "I like it when we make like rabbits."

And Elsie in turn caressed his cheek, before also admitting, "Funny, bunny. I do too."

With that she bit down on her lower lip, eliciting a growl from Charles, "Oh that lip!"


	95. How much is that doggie in the window?

Tuesday, 27 November 2018

4:00 pm

"Holy Cack!"

"Beryl, my seven-year old Goddaughter is in the next room! Watch your language, or at least your volume," Charles insisted as he held the screen of his mobile against his chest.

She took a deep breath then and nodded, "Show me again."

Slowly, Charles turned the device around so she could see the pic he'd taken through the window at Brounker Road Jewelers. This time, she took the phone from him, adjusted her glasses and studied it intently, zooming in and out.

"Wow. How much is this? No, best not tell me." She held up her hand; the phrase 'second mortgage' was running through her mind. She looked him in the eye. "Just, you could afford this?" Charles nodded. Big in yet another respect, Beryl thought - big spender. She returned her attention to the mobile.

Anxiously, Charles was studying her, to gauge her reaction to the engagement ring he was considering for Elsie. Hopeful for her thoughts, he finally just asked, "Well?"

Beryl sighed, handed him his mobile. "Charlie-Boy, it's lovely, no question. Any woman would love that ring." He exhaled his relief. "But Elsie's not any woman, as you well know. She grew up a simple farm girl, has some big financial responsibilities on her plate between her home, business and Becky." She shook her head and frowned before taking her glasses off. "Our lass would find this too extravagant. I think you better go another route, something more understated."

His disappointment shown through, "More practical you mean?"

"Well, not plain, but not showy either. More personal, more original - more Elsie."

Sybbie appeared then beckoning, "Dr. Bill, Miss Daisy and I've found the kind of rabbits I want and he knows where I can get some of my own but he also wants you to hear about them so we can design their hutch right and proper. Come listen, please, C.C.."

Beryl patted his shoulder as he passed; he was trying so hard and she loved him for it.


	96. Chapter 96: Bath

A/N: M, NSFW

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Thursday, 29 November 2018

8:40 pm

Kneeling beside the deep-sided bathtub in his en suite, Charles was capping the last bottle after precisely adding the drops Elsie had instructed. He'd started the faucet a couple minutes prior, pushed down the stopper when the water turned hot and then stepped away to undress.

Now naked herself, Elsie quietly walked in behind him carrying two lit candle pots. She paused to admire the toned muscles of his hamstrings and bottom as he leaned over the edge stirring the water with his hand. "That's nice," she said aloud.

Without looking up, he replied, "Agreed, the combination of sandalwood, lavender and jasmine is near intoxicating."

Elsie stepped forward and spanked his right buttock making him yelp, "The scene more than the scent, ye old booby!"

In leaning to one far corner of the tub to place the candle there, her left breast teasingly dangled inches from his face. Stepping back and crossing behind him, she mirrored her move on his other side. This time, he was prepared and attempted to nip her right breast with his teeth when she stood up. Turning toward him, hands on her hips, her dark curls were now close enough that her musky scent overtook the essential oils' for him. "Ready for lights out, Mr. Carson?"

"Mm-hmm," he turned the water off then and eased himself up to standing, groaning momentarily at his protesting knees. She stepped back and flipped the switch, leaving them in flickering candlelight. As she returned, Charles held out his hand, "After you, Ms. Hughes," and helped her into the tub where she settled with her back against one end.

Charles waited for her to center herself before sitting down opposite her, settling his legs on either side of hers. "Ahhh, good idea, Elsie. This will warm your feet in no time," he tilted his head back on the rim and closed his eyes, water lapping below his nipples. She was pleased to see him relaxing, but she also wanted to talk, find out what was troubling him.

She planted her heels and scoot forward slightly before lifting her feet out of the water and pressing them to his chest, a move he was not expecting. Thus, his eyes shot open as he sat up slightly, "What's this?"

"This bath is as much for you as it is for me, Charlie. What's caused you to toss and turn these last two nights?" She asked as she curled her toes attempting to play with the patch of fine, silvery hairs underneath the balls of her feet.

Stilling her feet against his chest, he couldn't tell her it was about his ring dilemma and so quickly thought of a truthful reply, "It's almost December. I've started to fret what to gift you for Christmas."

"Ach, how about some nice woolen socks and a pair of flannel pyjamas - so you don't have to do all the work of warming my feet and legs as the nights grow colder in the weeks ahead?"

"If that's what you'd like; though I rather enjoy warming them up myself," he smiled and closed his eyes again, softly rubbing his hand across the tops of her feet to just past her ankles and back, repeatedly.

There had to be more to it than that, she thought, as she studied his facial features from his hairline at the top of his forehead where his mind-of-its-own forelock was tamed - for now - down to his bushy eyebrows, dark lashes, prominent nose and wide nostrils, chiseled lips, dimpled chin and below that his broad neck where she faintly could see his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed. Even in the dim light, he was so handsome. It stirred her womanly core to think this generous, protective, manly man was hers. She too had begun wondering what to get him for Christmas, but at present, her focus was on gifting him now.

Eventually, his hand stilled, Elsie fearing he was falling asleep. She began moving her knees and hips to shift her feet to caress his nipples and massage his belly. Elsie could feel the rumble of his approval then for her erotic movements. Biting her lip, Elsie lowered her right heel to his own dense, wiry curls, before bending her ankle so her toes trailed the silky skin of his shaft from base to bellend. In the process, he opened his own hips slightly, wordlessly - though not silently - allowing her more access and encouragement to continue. As she did so, both could feel the beginnings of an erection from their mutual perspectives.

Semi-blindly then, she reached for the plastic caddy where she kept her loofah, razor, and pumice stone. Fumbling until her fingers found what she was looking for, Elsie pulled out her vibrator. Holding it in her right hand, she moved it against her left breast and turned it on, ghosting its end over and around her nipple. As Elsie leaned back and closed her eyes, Charles opened his right, confirming what he thought he'd heard then reshut it, though its brow remained raised.

"Didn't realize you'd brought your little friend over."

"Some old habits die hard, Charlie." Indeed what they now referred to as 'little Charlie' had seen her through many lonesome nights, previously.

"Hmpf," he grunted nonchalantly, before yawning.

He was falling asleep! And they really hadn't done anything!

Whilst she wanted him to find rest tonight, she also didn't want him to wake after at 3:00 am. So she stopped her stroking and both his eyes opened now. She contorted her posture before crawling over and settling her chest against his own. Her face mere inches from his, with her left index finger she traced the outline of his right ear, water dripping onto his collarbone and down his cheek. His eyes were locked on hers and she closed the gap between their mouths, her tongue darting between his lips before trapping his lower lip between both her own. There were sighs and other sounds of contentment made by each as she ground her hips against his and her vibrator buzzed between her right palm and his left shoulder. Easing back to catch her breath, Elsie grinned as she huskily noted, "Speaking of hard..."

She kissed her way down several inches until she was flicking his nipple with her tongue whilst snaking her right hand down lower and lower. When the vibrator contacted his penis's bell, he jerked involuntarily. Looking up toward his face, Elsie noted his eyes were squeezed shut yet his mouth was open wide. Slowly, seductively, she moved her hand along and around his length several times, his pleasure becoming ever-more evident.

As if she hadn't been bold up until this point, she decided to venture even further down his body. She grinned broadly at his whimper when his perineal nerve endings felt the initial faint vibrations. Though feeling unable to form words, he nonetheless bit down on his right index finger to quiet himself. Only when she pressed the vibrator firmly into his parineum, his neck snapped forward, eyes opened wide and his left arm shot down to her right wrist stilling it, "Stop, now. Please," he managed.

It startled Elsie and she did still as Charles took a series of deep, deep breaths. "I...I can't take...that. Too many hours pedaling on rock hard bike seats over the years left me with a chronic condition and I just can't take that sort of intense pressure right there. It's why I'm Grigg's patient. I'm sorry, Elsie...I'm just now realizing it hasn't come up before."

Something else had stopped coming up as this all transpired. "Charlie, no, nothing for you to be apologizing about. I'm the one who's sorry, I never wish to hurt you, and I did."

"No harm, just, well, come here and let's cuddle, please." Elsie turned off and set down the vibrator as Charles welcomed her to settle back between his legs, his knees bent and above the water's surface. She did so gently, and when she'd found just the right spot she eased back against his chest.

"Charlie, I am sorry, truly," she spread her hands across his lower thighs, feeling a few coarse hairs under her palms.

"Hush now, dear Elsie," he kissed the top of her head then and wormed his left hand between his leg and her hand, squeezing it reassuringly before bringing it to his lips and back again where his thumb stroked the back of her hand. He caressed her fingers one by one and his mind wandered back to thinking about a ring. And suddenly his mind connected dots as he remembered the first time he'd experienced perineal issues and realized therein might lie the solution to his current dilemma.


	97. Chapter 97: Rescue

Saturday, 1 December 2018

After his realization in the bath Thursday night, Charles had so wished he hadn't already promised Elsie that they would go Christmas shopping Friday, but he had. The best he was able to do was check the bank hours online and call Brounker Road Jewelers to make an appointment for today when Elsie was scheduled to stay at Becky's again. Normally, he was rather despondent over such weekends separated from her, but this time he was grateful for the time to do what he needed to do.

9:10 am

He stood in the small, private cubby where he'd been shown by the banker after accompanying her from the vault. The hinge-topped metal box in front of him begged to be opened. It had been a few years since he was here, after the last of the paperwork surrounding Alice's life and death had been received. Reaching for the lid, he noticed his hand shaking, "Steady now, Carson," he urged himself. Then, with one deep breath, he opened the lid.

Within the confines of the safety deposit box lay lots of paperwork; his DNR form and Alice's death certificate were on top. Removing them, he placed them beside the box. The title to the South Bank Tower flat was next, followed by his parents' death certificates and his and Alice's marriage license. His 1956 birth certificate - still in the original envelope addressed to his mother with an impossibly small-valued stamp on it - was the last of the paperwork he efficiently filed through. And yet below all that business of life was what he really came for, a few memories collected along the way.

The sheet of solid silver coins his Uncle Charlie had bequeathed to Charles generated a small smile, especially given the recent visit to Harrogate. Underneath those, however, was what he'd come for this morning - a small, black velvet cinched bag the sight of which made his brows arch instinctively. Slowly, he reached for the bag, loosened its drawstrings and poured the contents out into his left hand.

His mother's wedding band was the smaller of the two rings; he picked it up and studied it momentarily. Absent any adornment, it was as down to earth as his beloved mother herself had been. He slipped it past the first knuckle on his little finger and turned his attention to the second, much larger ring.

When he'd completed his graduate studies in Florence in his mid-20s he'd returned to Yorkshire, lived at home and worked for a year during which time he studied for the architectural licensing exam. It was a total distraction and one he was glad for because he Yorkshire wasn't where he wanted to be.

When he passed the exam, his parents had gifted him a ring with his August Peridot birthstone flanked by two small diamonds, one to commemorate his graduate degree, the other his license. The same day he received the ring, Charles announced he was quitting his job to take a gap year on the continent to see the great cities and their architecture. With a promise he'd someday be back home - not mentioning "back home" likely did not mean Yorkshire exactly - Charles headed off. Only, unlike so many youngsters that undertake their own versions of such a European adventure with the aid of a Europass, Charles' plan had been to bike his whole way.

He stayed a few days to a couple weeks wandering each city, performing odd jobs or selling sketches of the local landmarks he'd draw for spending money. He slept in hostels and on the occasional couch. December that year found him back in Italy, along the Amalfi coast where it was warmer. One night, fueled by too much grappa and aided by the Italian he'd learned during his student days in Florence, he'd charmed the beautiful, dark-haired waitress who had poured him most of that grappa and indulged in some herself. She invited Charles to her bed where he would have technically lost his virginity were it not for the fact he couldn't keep an erection long enough to engage in intercourse. She kicked him out.

Whilst disappointed, he attributed his inability to perform to first time jitters. Only as the remaining months of his gap year passed, he noticed that on the days after his longer rides, he did not have his usual morning wood. Grigg wasn't yet a doctor when Charles returned to England, but he called his friend up and Grigg had him make an appointment with a urologist who eventually recommended surgery that had been successful even before he met Alice. He just had to avoid the sort of intense perineal pressure like Elsie had initiated Thursday night.

Charles shook himself from the reverie of his gap year and returned his attention to the rings. Looking at his watch then, he realized he needed to return the other contents of the box to the vault.

10:00 am

"Something like that," Charles emphasized as he dotted his pen on the paper laid out in front of him. "What do you think, Mr. Fellowes, can you do that?"

The balding man in front of him scratched his ear whilst considering the question posed. "Of course, plenty to work with here. The challenge will be you want it for -"

"Christmas."

"It's our busiest time of year, understand. Already have a bit of a backlog."

"I'd be much obliged," Charles pleaded. He'd been a good customer whilst Alice was alive, Fellowes remembered that and the Sapphire pendant purchased a few weeks ago. With a woman in his life again, Fellowes recognized that pulling out a Christmas miracle now could be quite lucrative in the long run for his jewelry business.

"Alright, check back in a few days, say Wednesday; see where I'm at with a design."

"Brilliant!"


	98. Chapter 98: The Poky Little Puppy

Sunday, 3 December 2018

6:20 pm

"Knock, knock. Everything alright in there?" From around the out-of-sight corner, he had interrupted the child's off-key singing of Christmas carols.

"Yes, fine, C.C.," Sybbie replied, merrily.

She'd had a great day. After church, she had worked alongside Charles to start building the rabbit hutch he had designed with input from Bill Mason, the internet, and herself. Tom had helped too until he had to change and leave for the airport for his business trip to Helsinki. As Sybil was on a 12-hour shift until 7, Charles brought Sybbie home with him and they went swimming at the South Bank Tower pool in the meantime. Matthew and George Talbot were there as well which Charles was glad for after Sybbie's comment last week about not having any friends in London; the children had met during Sybbie's July visit and gotten along well.

After, Charles had advised both of them needed to bathe. He showered and changed in the en suite expecting Sybbie to have done so concurrently in the guest room/ study's loo. Only when he returned, he found Sybbie, unbathed, pirouetting for Igor on the living room floor. Sybbie explained she wanted a bubble bath and there was only a shower in the other loo. Mildly perturbed, Charles had Sybbie follow him into the en suite and whilst Sybbie tended to the faucet, Charles fetched the bottle of liquid bubbles and a fresh towel. When he turned around to Sybbie asking, "What's this?" as she held Elsie's vibrator in the air, Charles snatched it away from her mumbling, "Something that belongs to Elsie."

Thirty minutes later, dinner nearly ready and the table for three all set, Charles had come to check and see what was taking her so long.

"Come along then, munchkin. I want us to eat as soon as Elsie gets here so we can meet your mummy when she arrives home. It's a school night, after all. Oh, I think that's Elsie now."

"Mmmmm, okay."

6:30 pm

"Finally," Charles whispered to Elsie when he saw Sybbie emerge from his bedroom as they stood together at his kitchen counter. The lass was skipping her way toward them. Then, more loudly after making eye contact with her, "Nice of you to join us, Sybbie."

Elsie touched his upper arm as a signal to ease up. He turned then to remove the casserole from the oven. Elsie inquired, kindly, "Did you have a nice bubble bath, petal?"

She stilled long enough to select one of the pistachios from the bowl Charles had set out for them. "Hi L.C., I did. I shaved my legs."

"You what?" Elsie choked as Charles nearly dropped the hot pan upon hearing the same.

Sybbie embellished, "Shaved my legs - like mummy does." Sybbie was nothing if not matter-of-fact. "I found a razor in the tub. And something else that C.C. said belongs to you. It was plum colour and wiggles and hums. Mummy had one just like it in Boston after daddy returned to England. What are they?" Her eyes and little hand returned to the bowl of nuts as Elsie and Charles looked at one another, tongue-tied.


	99. Chapter 99: Master

A/N: I read up a bit on recutting gems and remelting gold...and learned not all below is feasible/ recommended IRL, especially the gold part. Once again, it's fortunate for all this is playing out in fantasyland!

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Wednesday, 5 December 2018

9:30 am

Charles was anxious to hear Fellowes' assessment and design recommendations so he was there when the shop's doors were unlocked. As the men sat down in Fellowes' office, he turned on his computer. Whilst the application was opening, the summary began.

"Mr. Carson, both your rings are 18 karat - good, not great - but certainly enough to work with. The larger is in near pristine condition, very few scratches. I am guessing you never wore it much."

"No, I didn't find it conducive to my field work," Charles admitted with some guilt; it surely cost his hardworking parents a great deal of money.

"Well, the good part about that from where we sit today is the diamonds are in excellent shape, nicely cut and I wouldn't do a thing to them except the resetting. The Peridot is another story. Again, no scratches but it's a classic example of what I still see happening often today, unfortunately: the cutters valuing weight ahead of optical performance. So let's see here."

Fellowes clicked his way to a file with Charles' name on it and then a document within dated 4 December 2018 and a lime green simulated stone appeared alone on the screen. "Taking into consideration proportions and my assumption that it will be worn on a considerably smaller hand and the stone's colour zoning condition, my recommendation is to reduce the size of its window or face and introduce properly placed pavilion facets to leave a stone that looks something...like this." He rotated the screen so Charles could see better.

Charles' brows rose, even onscreen he could easily imagine the added sparkle Fellowes had illustrated. "I'd lop off the sides and those could be made into some other pieces down the road, if you like. I could picture them in some earring settings where mounting would be very easy. As far as the remainder, the faceting I'm recommending would sacrifice 15-20% of the weight but increase its value exponentially."

"And what about the broader setting?"

At this the jeweler became animated. "I'm quite excited about the full pairing of the wedding band which I recommend be a rather broad backdrop for the engagement setting that will curve over it, in a prong- or prod-like fashion."

"You've lost me, Mr. Fellowes, a prod?"

"Ah, let me just show you," Fellowes clicked his mouse adding a few more layers to the drawing and suddenly his whole vision became very clear and that much more real to Charles.

"Wowwwww, that's...fantastic!" Charles' voice quivered before that last word. Clearing his throat, he asked a few detail questions which Fellowes rotated the perspective to answer and then Charles fell silent, studying the screen intently.

After a while, Fellowes filled the silence, "If I may, Mr. Carson, I believe the composition as a whole delivers on the, let's see here -" he thumbed through the notes he'd taken on Saturday. "Ah yes, the 'style' and the 'show' you hoped to see - without being pretentious."

"I agree, you're a master at your craft. I love it - and hope she will too!" he smiled, soppily.

"So then?" Fellowes wondered aloud.

"On with the show!"


	100. Chapter 100: Three Dog Night

Friday, 7 December 2018

For the Bransons, December was already insanely busy. Sybil was working 12-hour weekend shifts at Hospice, a few 8s during the week and sewing Sybbie's costume for her school's holiday pageant. Sybbie had school and ballet activities, and Tom was traveling for work. This week, five days in Dubai; though with the UAE's Sunday - Thursday workweek, he was leaving London on Saturday. And tonight was his company's holiday party, something Tom considered important that he and Sybil attend.

With Cora herself busy with Hospital Board holiday activities, there was a potential child-care bind. Instead, Charles offered for Sybbie to stay in his care the full weekend, affording Sybil not only her shifts but time to secretly dash out to Hampshire with and for presents.

After dinner together and before washing dishes, Charles made popcorn the old-fashioned way: in an old metal popper on the hob. Tonight, they would be trimming Charles' Christmas tree. Only, much to Elsie's surprise, it was far from traditional, instead,16 interlocking pieces of plywood cut in the shapes of abstract branches. Charles and Alice had found it on a trip to Finland a few years before her death, loved the unusual design and had it shipped home.

It fascinated Elsie now to watch as he assembled what had packed flat in a large but narrow box into a three-dimensional "tree" not quite as tall as her. He'd put it up the year Alice died but had left it packed away the last few Decembers having been lacking in Christmas spirit.

With carols playing on the stereo and all nibbling on popcorn, Elsie unwrapped ornaments, whilst Charles told about their provenance and he and Sybbie hung them on the tree.

8:45 pm

"Time for bed, munchkin."

"Just a little while longer, pleeeeeaaase?"

"No. We'll read a bedtime story after you are tucked in but tomorrow's another day."

"A big day, petal, where there's a holiday tradition to uphold. I am hoping you will help us, Becky and my friend Beryl make holiday sweets. Before then, if we do as he asks, I am hoping C.C. will prepare us pancakes," Elsie winked.

"And soldiers?" Sybbie asked, hopefully.

"And soldiers," Charles confirmed.

"Ok, I'll go get ready then," and she ran off to the guest room.

"Definitely your Goddaughter, Mr. Carson," Elsie chuckled.

10:00 pm

Knocking back the last drops of his sherry and noting lightning in the western sky, Charles woke Igor from his slumber to take him out one last time.

"You'll find me in bed when you're back," Elsie advised as he bent down to kiss the top of her head.

When dog and man returned, Charles' slicker was dripping as was Igor's coat but thanks to his new Thunder Vest, he was calm. Charles thought he heard crying as he walked past Sybbie's cracked open door.

"Is that you, Sybbie?" he whispered from the doorway in case his ears were playing tricks on him.

"Yes," her little voice sobbed.

He pushed open the door instantly and flicked the light switch, rushing to her side. "What's the matter, munchkin?"

"I'm scared!" she hiccupped whilst rubbing her eyes.

"Of what, sweetheart?" Charles pulled her into his arms and she sobbed against his chest. It took her several choking breaths before she could explain the thunder and lightning. When Charles pointed out they had never scared her before that he knew of, Sybbie explained that they were so much higher, closer to the thunder and lightning here. That was true.

Storming was forecast on and off all night. "I'll tell Elsie I'm back and then return to stay with you until you fall to sleep again."

"No! I don't want to be alone."

"Shhh now, Igor can sleep in here with you. Look, I'll even let him sleep up on the bed this once," Charles continued attempting to soothe her.

"No! Not Igor!" She was distraught and refusing the dog was the proof.

"Well, you need to help me then. What else may I offer, Sybbie? What would mummy or daddy do?"

"Let me sleep with them." Charles arched his brows.

A minute later, Sybbie in his arms, Charles called to Elsie from the living room as he approached, "Are you decent, Ms. Hughes?"

Pulled from her reading, Elsie was confused, "Aye."

With that Charles walked in, nodding his head toward Sybbie, "Someone is frightened of the storm and apparently needs to sleep with us." He bent to put the lass down as Elsie lifted back the duvet, still surprised. "Um, do you know where my pyjama bottoms might be?"

"I'll help you look in the closet," she slipped out of bed, tucking the covers around Sybbie whose eyelids were heavy, face red from crying. "We won't be far, petal."

"Don't be long."

When they were in the privacy of his walk-in closet, Charles replayed the last few minutes and then asked again about the pyjamas.

"How should I know? It isn't like you've slept in anything more than your pants for the six months we've been together and them not so frequently." She joined him in opening and closing drawers and eventually found them, tossing them to Charles before returning to the bed.

When Charles appeared a few minutes later, wearing pyjama bottoms and vest, Elsie's book was on the side table and she gestured down to Sybbie who was snoring against her in the middle of the bed. Crawling in too, Charles whispered, "I'll take her back when we know she's good and out."

Elsie shook her head, before herself whispering, "And if she wakes? I didn't hear her crying earlier. No, I think she's here for the night."

"So much for a cuddle," Charles lamented.

"We'll be okay. Goodnight, Charlie." She leaned in his direction as they kissed goodnight, tenting over Sybbie.


	101. Chapter 101: Bark

To the guest who wondered where to find Charles' Finnish plywood tree: search "Lovi Kuusi." I'm sure he would have the natural wood finish.

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Saturday, 8 December 2018

7:00 am

Waking, Charles felt his eyebrows moving together, or rather being moved together, prompting him to scrunch his face. Then he heard Elsie's sweet voice whispering, "See, I told you if you played with his eyebrows he would wake up."

The movement continued and he heard another sweet, small giggle. Charles was on his side facing them both, his wrist evidently draped over Sybbie by the scale of the warmth. He wiggled his fingers to tickle the lass's back as his eyes shot open and he rumbled, "Who's that playing with my eyebrows?"

"Me and L.C.!" she squealed.

"Good morning, M'ladies."

"Good morning, Mr. Carson. We've been discussing how hungry we both are and anxious for you cooking pancakes and soldiers."

Now completely conscious, Charles replied, "Sure, um, in a few minutes. There's a _wooden_ soldier I need to take care of first," he subtly nodded toward his groin.

"Oh, of course. Um, Sybbie, let's help C.C. by getting the breakfast ingredients out. That way, we'll be able to eat sooner."

Elsie held her hand out for Sybbie and they both got out of bed. "Run along for your dressing gown and use the loo in your room – and wash hands! I'll meet you in the kitchen momentarily."

"Thank you," Charles exhaled, collapsing back on his pillow. "I'll be as quick as I reasonably can."

"I'm sorry I can't help you out of your current predicament – as I normally _would_. Get it? _Wood_?" Elsie giggled as she pressed her lips to his.

"Minx!"

Charles remembered sampling holiday sweets in years past at Yew Tree that he now knew Beryl and Elsie were responsible for. This year, he was privy to their behind-the-scenes, which was near industrial in its operation.

Their biscuit baking was perfected through years of practice, not just the recipes that had been passed down through the Hughes, Patmore and Mason family trees; it had to be seamless given the quantities they planned to make, package and distribute as thanks to so many, like the care team at Martha's assisted living facility. There would be trays set out for clients and visitors to Elsie's practice and Yew Tree, as well as tins given to friends and neighbours. In total, it was a two-day affair for the friends, sandwiching their laugh/ swoon/ cry fest over their favourite holiday movie, LOVE ACTUALLY.

Beryl had brought over the batches of sugar biscuit dough she'd prepared last night and had chilled so that it would roll easily. Together, she and Elsie had recently purchased the sprinkles and other biscuit decorations, pretzel rods, peppermints, and baking chocolate.

They had recalibrated their operations to take advantage of two extra sets of hands. Charles was tasked with precision work, specifically using the biscuit cutters and then piping whereas Sybbie helped with what was less precise, specifically the pretzel dipping and brushing biscuits and dusting with sugar.

Next to sampling all the treats, the littlest lass surprised all the adults by having the most fun with the peppermint bark: first, hammering the candies to bits and then once the large sheets had cooled, Sybbie also enjoyed breaking them into the bark.

Another highlight for her was when Dr. Bill arrived with the now 10-week old Chuck the collie pup for some socializing with Igor and Violet. Bill believed very strongly in the idea of introducing a pup to other dogs and with Sybbie just a little older than the Mason granddaughters it was also good for him to interact with someone about their size. As the two played, Chuck was full of high-pitched barks.

At 6:00 pm, Charles was asked to drive Becky home whilst Bill was sent to Chow Fun to pick up Chinese food to be packed as three separate orders: one for Bill to take home, one for Charles and Sybbie to do the same, and one to leave with Elsie and Beryl who would be spending the night at Elsie's.

8:45 pm

Elsie and Beryl were both in their flannel pyjamas, legs under a shared blanket as they lounged on Elsie's sofa, sipping red wine and nibbling fresh biscuits. Empty Chinese take away containers and chopsticks were on the table in front of them but their focus was on the screen beyond. As they did every year, they eagerly anticipated the scene where Harry's attempt to buy an expensive necklace for his secretary, Mia, is thwarted as Rufus the salesman makes a big production out of the packaging. Beryl looked over at Elsie as the scene played out, she just couldn't help herself. "Ain't that the truth – wives get _no_ jewelry for Christmas, but girlfriends are another story. Wonder if you'll get any jewelry, this year, Els."

"Ach! When he asked, I told Charlie new flannel pyjamas would be nice – look at these!" she stuck her left foot out from under the blanket to point out the frayed hem on her trouser leg.

9:05 pm

"Another tissue, Beryl," Elsie reached over asking for the box as their favourite scene played out. Jamie, in broken Portuguese, declares his love to "beautiful Aurélia **"** and proposes in the restaurant where she is waitressing. "I can't think of anything more romantic than a proposal on Christmas Eve."

As Aurélia says 'yes' in broken English, Beryl blew her nose, "I agree it's perfection."


	102. Chapter 102: Fever of 102 Dalmatians

Sunday, 9 December 2018

8:42 am

" _FYI, Sybbie has a fever. Currently resting. Call when you're able, no rush."_

Charles had texted Sybil 30 minutes prior. He knew she kept her personal mobile tucked away until breaks and from their FaceTime last evening that the hospice was shorthanded this weekend. Reluctantly, Sybbie had taken some water, an acetaminophen and two water biscuits.

"Sybil."

"I just read your text, Uncle Carson. How's my baby girl?"

"Other than not wanting to be referred to as a 'baby,' she's okay." In addition to the 102 degree F fever, Charles told of Sybbie's headache and stomachache, the latter of which he suspected was at least in part due to yesterday's sweets. He apologized - in addition to their biscuit sampling during production, they'd indulged in a few more last night before punching out forms from Sybbie's PAPER LONDON book. She'd turned cranky after they'd glued together the Double-Decker Bus and Telephone Box at which point Charles instituted bedtime.

"I am so sorry, Uncle Carson. I'll see if I can get away to take her off your hands."

"Nonsense, there's nothing more you could be doing. We'll be fine and I'll keep you posted. See you this evening."

12:45 pm

Briefing Elsie upon her arrival, Charles explained Sybbie had slept all morning.

"Has she any appetite?"

"Not the last I checked."

"When was that?"

"12:00."

"I'd like to see her, let's check again."

Slowly, Elsie slid open the pocket door to Charles' guest room/ study. As she did so, Igor lifted his head off Sybbie's leg as they approached. When Charles made no sign to shoo the dog off the bed, Elsie smiled; he was such a softie where Sybbie was concerned. He had chased Igor off his furniture countless times, but if it brought Sybbie comfort, the dog could be comfortable too.

"Are you awake, Petal?"

"Uh-huh." Elsie sat down on the edge of the bed and felt Sybbie's forehead which was definitely warm.

"Ye poor wee thing," Elsie's Scottish accent was in high gear, Charles noted. "C.C. tells me you should be having some more medicine soon. Do you think you'd like some chicken soup with noodles?"

"Alphabet noodles?"

"I'm not sure about that, Petal, we'll see what there is. Will you try that?"

Sybbie nodded and rolled onto her side toward Elsie. As Elsie stroked her hair, Charles stood over them, hands in his trouser pockets, feeling badly that Sybbie wasn't feeling well and yet warmed by Elsie's comforting her. Momentarily, Charles advised, "I'll go see about that soup."

Elsie helped Sybbie sit up to sip some Ginger Ale which was the perfect opening for her to tell about the gingerbread shortbreads she and Beryl had baked this morning. Observing how listless the lass was, Elsie inquired how she'd felt last night.

"Fine." After two more sips, Sybbie squirmed, trying to reach her back. "L.C., will you scratch my back, please?"

"Of course, Petal. Did Igor tell you I give good back scratches?"

"No," the lass half-smiled, "But C.C. says you give good belly rubs." Elsie rolled her eyes as Sybbie shifted to her other side. Elsie scratched Sybbie's back through her pyjama top thinking nothing was amiss until she asked Elsie to continue. At which point Elsie lifted the hem to scratch Sybbie's back directly revealing a rash. Elsie didn't say anything and was glad Sybbie couldn't see the expression on her face.

"Sybbie, I'll be back momentarily. I want to see if C.C. has found any soup." She kissed Sybbie's head before she hustled out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

As she approached the kitchen, Charles was stirring the contents of the pan on the hob. "There's hardly any chicken in here, but maybe that's okay for now what with her tummy ache."

"Oh, you needn't worry about enough chicken, there's plenty in there," Elsie gestured toward the study. "She has chickenpox, Charlie."

He turned off the gas and followed Elsie back in the room where she called up a chickenpox photo on her mobile and then had Sybbie lift her pyjama top again. Sybbie was covered in the telltale blisters front and back. As Charles stood there horrified that he'd missed this, Elsie explained to Sybbie that regardless of the itching, it was important not to scratch. And she assured Charles he did nothing wrong. Then she instructed him to call Sybil. Soon he returned explaining that Sybil would call back momentarily via FaceTime.

When she was on the screen, Sybil fussed over her daughter as well as one can remotely. Naturally, she was distraught, and then she explained to the threesome, "I should come over right away, I want to come over right away," Sybil started crying then. "But I can't, sweetheart. Instead, I'm going to call your daddy and see if he can fly home, today. You see, we have a surprise we were going to share with you and everyone in the family on Christmas. But, well, it seems I need to ask you instead to help keep the secret for others. Sybbie, your wish to become a big sister is going to come true - I'm going to have a baby!"

Charles and Elsie were stunned - what a turn of events! "But sweetheart, I never had the chickenpox and they're very contagious, I can't be near you for some days because it could harm the baby. When your daddy gets home he can pick you up right away and bring you home. I suppose I will have to tell Auntie Rosamund, maybe I can stay with her and uncle Duke until you're no longer conta-."

"That's preposterous!" Charles interrupted. "Sybil darling, that's wonderful news about the baby, I'm sure we'll all keep your secret but you need your rest too. Don't bother Tom, he's just arrived in Dubai. Sybbie can stay here for the duration of her illness."


	103. Chapter 103: Sitter

Thursday, 13 December 2018

6:35 pm

"Excuse me, Clifford," she touched the young man's forearm as her attention and body shifted toward her outer office door. With each step, her eyes and smile brightened due to his unexpected arrival.

The door was still swinging open when she verbalized the first thought from moments ago on the other side of the room: "Tom's home!"

In response to his head nod acknowledgment, she bit down on her lip, still smiling, and took his head in both her hands as she closed the distance between their lips. He would have ravished her right then and there were it not for the lad in their midst. As their lips pulled apart, his eyes said that would just have to wait.

Clearing his throat then, he stepped toward Clifford with his hand extended in greeting, "Hello, mate, how've you been?" Charles immediately recognized and regretted his awkward choice of words. Clifford obviously was there for a therapy session.

They shook hands, "Fine, Mr. Carson, and you?"

"Ah, glad to be out of the house. I've been caring for my Goddaughter the last several days whilst she's been ill."

Elsie shook her head exaggeratedly as she wrapped her hand around Charles' forearm. "He's being modest, Clifford. Since Sunday morn, he's been the primary to sole caregiver for a precious and precocious 7-year old battling chickenpox. Holding cold compresses to her forehead, drawing multiple daily lukewarm oatmeal baths, dabbing lotion on her blisters, brushing her hair, cooking her meals, helping with her schoolwork and otherwise putting his own life on hold for her."

"You know I'd do the same for you and then some," he said sincerely.

It gave her pause and she smiled, humbly, "Aye, I do." She paused, then continued more lightheartedly, "And now her daddy is home and Mr. Carson is able to resume bachelorhood."

Charles rolled his eyes at that one quickly crediting Elsie for her own generosity in the equation as she'd turned her keys and home over to Sybil for a few days until Sybbie's blisters all crust over and she would no longer be contagious. Charles, Sybil and Tom were so grateful for the gesture and being able to keep the baby secret from Rosamund and Duke.

Clifford who'd grown fond of Elsie as he got to know her these last weeks was also impressed, if not a little jealous. Thanks to Elsie's counseling and discussions in group, he'd concluded it would be healthiest to move out of his shared flat to a new one. Joe would be returning to London in a week to help him pack and also co-sign. In the new year, Clifford planned to also restart his job search.

7:08 pm

On their walk home, they discussed what Clifford shared with Charles of his present challenges. Charles offered to make some introductions at the ballet. When Elsie asked if he really would do that, Charles said, "Of course, seems like he just needs a leg up."

"Kind of like I just need a leg over," Elsie huffed.

Charles swung her hand in his, "You do?"

"Don't tell me you don't. It's been a week!"

"You'll get no argument from me. In fact, a small part of me is kind of jealous of Sybbie, what with staying in bed all day - I want us to do that tomorrow."

"Well, in that case Mr. Carson, you have yourself a date."


	104. Chapter 104: Licking

Friday, 14 December 2018

After his week with Sybbie and their own _private_ activities last night after returning to Charles', Elsie was only mildly surprised that Charles was still asleep as the nine o'clock hour approached. He'd said he wanted to spend the whole day in bed together and he was a man of his word – it was looking like it just might happen!

After they'd made love approaching 2:00 am, he gave himself a head start to sleeping late by using the loo; a couple hours ago, Elsie helped make his lie in possible by taking Igor out when she woke. In the meantime, as Charles snored, she'd been industrious, sitting upright in bed beside him signing her Christmas cards.

A few weeks ago, they'd had some small tiffs surrounding the topic. It had started when they'd discussed whether to send separate cards or if they might share one, effectively declaring themselves a true and devoted couple – which of course they were by now – but cards from the both of them didn't quite feel right in all cases. They agreed they could go with one design, but Charles would send some alone, others Elsie would, and only those to their closest friends and family would be signed by both of them.

That was another part of the debate. In years past, considering postage and the effort to send, Elsie had opted for digital cards. But Charles insisted on traditional paper cards without any glitter or other "tacky embellishments" in his words. He introduced her to the idea of digitally printed envelopes that would significantly trim writing time, yet only incur a small fee for set up. When she agreed to that, the last detail was the card itself. In a cheeky moment, she'd suggested as the cover image her Brighton bedroom drawing of him – the one they had to remember to hide whenever Sybbie was visiting.

They settled on a printed collage of five photos of them "costumed" throughout 2018. The two landscapes on the left showed them in their a) formal wear at Gwen's November wedding, b) Halloween costumes at Thomas and Simon's party; c) in the center, the only vertical photo was their ALICE IN WONDERLAND prop photo from March; on the right, in landscape again, were d) one with Becky after September's charity match, Charles in his cricket whites and e) in their pink bras and finisher medals from May's MOONWALK. Charles had briefly protested the last and that's when Elsie again offered the Brighton bedroom drawing, alternatively.

8:50 am

"Good day, Mr. Carson," she noted as his eyes fluttered.

Scratching at his stubble, he looked over at her, "What's this?"

"Catching up to you and your finished pile of Christmas cards. After you called me unorganized -"

"I did not call you _unorganized_ ," he yawned. "Remember, I had plenty of time on my hands whilst Sybbie rested."

"Well, either way, I have just a few more to sign and then they're _all_ yours." Another reason Elsie favoured digital cards, she disliked the process of sealing envelopes. So Charles had agreed to lick and seal all the envelopes for the paper cards.

He lifted his head off the pillow to peer over to her bedside table and the tall pile of cards in envelopes waiting for him. There were dozens and dozens.

His head dropped back onto the pillow and he crossed his wrists on his forehead as he let out a groan.

Elsie chuckled then before capping her pen, putting it, the envelope in her hands and her pillowed desk down on the table. She scoot herself under the duvet and over to his side, kissing his bare chest, "The good news is, Charlie, all that licking can be done in bed, and I'll be cuddled right beside you the _whole_ time you're doing so. As her arm trailed down his side from ribs to hip toward his manhood, she added, "And I might lick a few of your bits whilst you're tending to my envelopes."


	105. Chapter 105: Australian Shepherd

Sunday, 16 December 2018

9:30 pm

He double clicked on the email that had just arrived from S_Butte. Subject: AU Itinerary

 _Dear Charles,_

 _Our department's admin has put the final touches on your Aussie itinerary this morning and it looks lovely – see below._

 _Fri, 28 Dec QF 10 Dep 11.55 LHR_

 _Arr 12.45 + 1 PER_

 _Sat, 29 Dec QF 582 Dep 14.00 PER_

 _Arr 21.10 SYD_

 _Lodging Glenferrie Lodge, Kirribilli NSW_

 _Fri, 4 Jan JST 725 Dep 17.45 SYD_

 _Arr 19.40 HBA_

 _Lodging MONA Pavilions, Berriedale, Hobart TAS_

 _Tue, 8 Jan QF 1016 Dep 17.50 HBA_

 _Arr 19.05 MEL_

 _QF 653 Dep 20.30 MEL_

 _Arr 21.35 PER_

 _Lodging COMO The Treasury, Perth WA_

 _Sat, 12 Jan QF 9 Dep 19.40 PER_

 _Arr 5.05 +1 LHR_

 _I've incorporated your bookings for Tassie and Perth that you'd sent along previously. The lodging everywhere is first rate – up to your high standards. Bar and I are quite jealous!_

 _Recall the architectural symposium will be on Wednesday, 2 Jan beginning at 14.00 at the Uni. Along with you and Bar, the presenters are Mrs. May Bird, Dr. Gardner Brockit and Mr. Val'et Watson, 20 min each. Based on your draft deck, I've put you last on the agenda. No added pressure on the foreigner, traveling how many thousands of miles, to deliver a grand finale! ; )_

 _After, the panel discussion should go an hour and then a reception. I hope you and Elsie will join us all for dinner with the other presenters, dean, provost, and spouses/ significant others. Of course, we hope you two will come over to the house for dinner on NYE – Gavin and Kirsten should be home too._

 _We're thrilled you're finally coming Down Under! Until then, we wish you and Elsie a Happy Christmas!_

 _\- Sam_

After Charles read it, he handed it to Elsie.

"That's lovely of him."

"Him?" 

"Sam."

"Sam's a she. Sam, short for Samantha."

"Oh. I just assumed…when you first brought it up, you said your 'mate' from Australia."

"Oh, dear. And I'm sure it didn't help when I talked about Bar – her husband, Barnaby."

"Right you are."

"Sorry, poor communication on my part. I just thought when I'd explained that Sam was mentored by Alice…well, at the time, most interior designers were women."

"Anyway, all clear now." She looked at him mock-seriously then, "They do know I'm a she as well, right?"


	106. Chapter 106: Dogged by the Memory

Wednesday, 19 December 2018

8:20 am

" _Shit, Charlie, forgot my lunch."_

"Shall I _drop it by?"_

" _You're a dear…I'm open after 12:10."_

12:18 pm

"Sex delivery! Sex delivery for Ms. Elsie Hughes!" Charles announces jubilantly as he opened her outer office door. Elsie had rushed out this morning to swing by her house to grab the pashmina that paired so well with the outfit she was intent on wearing today. Only, in that rush and the anxiety she felt every year leading up to Christmas, she forgot her lunch including her pseudo Sex on the Lido smoothie which she and Charles had started abbreviating simply to 'Sex'.

Ever the dear man with ample spare time, Charles is nonetheless a few minutes later than intended as Elsie sits in one of the easy chairs in her waiting area looking down at her mobile.

"Ready for some sweet, invigorating Sex, Ms. Hughes?" he smiles and waggles his eyebrows. Until he hears a chuckle from the far corner as Elsie looks up, silently.

"Sounds good to me, Charles!" He turns as Isobel slaps her knee in delight.

"Erm, Isobel," his ears and cheeks turning red with embarrassment, "Hello."

"Cheers!" Isobel raises her mug in his direction.

He looks to Elsie for help but her offering is limited to a smirk and shrug of the shoulders.

"Well, I'll leave you two be. I have a 12:30 and it sounds like Charles has something to deliver to you, Elsie!"

"Bye, Isobel," she shuts the door behind her friend and smiles at this inadvertent distraction.

"I didn't realize you were speaking with someone. Bad enough it was Isobel, it could have been -"

"Who, Theresa May?"

"I suppose so, or Clifford Burns."

"That would be tomorrow, and..." She changes topics back to the present. "Thank you for bringing my lunch, I can't believe I forgot it and could certainly have picked up something around the corner but it's a nice treat to see you in the middle of my day, my Sex delivery lad!" She kisses him then and his embarrassment fades all the more.

"Yes well, I don't mind the opportunity to rescue a damsel in distress, especially if there's food involved. I brought sandwiches for the both of us."

"Twice the Sex?" She winked, "C'mon, I've plates and cutlery in the kitchenette."

They ate lunch then as she did most days - at her desk. Charles noticed Elsie was picking at her food. "If you don't like it Elsie, I'll mention it to the chef."

"No, it's fine. I've, well, there's something I need to speak with you about."

Gesturing to her sofa, he said, "We're certainly in the right place."

"How long do you have?"

"My love?"

She paused to smile, touched, treasured by the endearment. "I don't mean to scare you, honestly, I don't..."

"Come, let's sit on the sofa for a moment. It's been my experience that good things happen there." He reached for her hand and she nodded. Sitting beside her, Charles let her lead the conversation.

"What would you think of dinner out on Friday?"

He looked at her, puzzled. "But we never go out on Fridays."

"True, but this is no ordinary Friday." She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap.

Suddenly his left hand was there covering both of hers. "No, no it's not," he added quietly. "Lockerbie. Aaron."

Her eyes shot up to his, "You remembered." Of course he remembered. He was a student of history and he never did things by halves. She nodded then, as her lip began to quiver, prompting Charles to wrap her in his arms in an attempt to make the hurt go away.


	107. Chapter 107: Give a Dog a Bone

Aye, BarbaraMan. First mention of Aaron back in Ch. 13, and briefly thereafter.

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

Friday, 21 December 2018

Lockerbie. Of course he remembered; she'd never forgotten. But Elsie was not the only one. In addition to the families and friends of the hundreds of others who had died, there was Aaron's family and friends. Yes, there was Elsie, and Becky. And Joe.

Joe had reached out via Clifford to invite them all to dinner to remember Aaron Durell Hughes, to celebrate him 30 years to the day since his tragic death. The Hughes clan had attended celebrations of life for all victims in the early years after the crash but as one of the eleven on the ground, Elsie and Alban had felt Aaron's memory was somewhat slighted compared to the 259 airborne. And Becky didn't find comfort in the gatherings at all, and so they opted to mourn privately over the years. But Joe knew Aaron, had loved him like the little brother he never had, and with Charles there to also steady her and Becky, Elsie agreed to Joe's invitation.

7:15 pm

Joe and Becky hadn't seen one another in decades, and other than hearing matter-of-factly that he looked like his da, "an 'old' man now", Joe was pleased to see Becky - his surrogate little sister - again, and vice versa.

Joe was quick to start the storytelling, praise and laughs abounding about Aaron. Elsie and Becky too joined in as they found comfort in the memories coming back to them. Charles and Clifford were good listeners learning about the young man, three years younger than Clifford was now, and all that he had squeezed into his short life.

As their dinner plates were cleared, Becky inquired if the restaurant had Aaron's favourite Sticky Toffee Pudding. Yes, they did. Joe ordered two servings for the table and a round of whiskey shots. Elsie protested the one for Becky, but Joe insisted even if she only dipped her pinky finger in it.

Shot glass raised, Joe offered a toast, "To Aaron, dh 'fhalbh Dia anam."

"Dh 'fhalbh Dia anam," the others all said in unison, save for Charles. Joe translated for him "God rest his soul," and then Joe addressed Becky. "Lass, it's been far too long and you're lovelier than ever. I'm so glad you could join us this evening, not just for the chance to see you and meet Violet but I have something of yours I want to return. Your da gave it to me after Aaron died but I've always felt it should be in the Hughes family and Becky, as Aaron's twin, I think it best be yours."

Joe pulled a blue velvet box from his pocket then and Elsie knew immediately what was inside. She covered her mouth to stifle a little cry as Becky proceeded to open the box.

Inside was a silver, not quite 10 cm long "toothpick" with a cast golden top. Becky lifted it out of the box to study it closer. "It's a kilt pin! Look Charlie, there's a dragon and thistle on the end."

"Aye, Becky. Da gave it to Aaron when he left for Lockerbie."

"The thistle is the handle of a Scottish Claymore sword, Becks," Joe explained as she handed the pin to Charles who was admiring it.

Charles' knowledge of history added detail. "The kilt pin is an integral part of the full Highland Dress, you know. It's widely believed to have made its appearance during the reign of Queen Victoria. Whilst inspecting a regiment of Scottish soldiers at Balmoral Castle on a particularly windy day, Her Majesty noticed one soldier at attention unable to control the flapping of his kilt. Recognizing his distress and mortification, she walked over to him and removed a pin from her own clothing and placed it on the front of his kilt. It was believed that afterward, a decree went out from the Queen making the kilt pin a permanent part of the Military Highland Dress."

"You know your Scotch history, Charlie. And the front apron specifically is where she pinned the kilt," Joe noted.

"It's lovely, Joe. Thank you."

"Aye, thanks Joe."

"You're very, very welcome lass, do with it as you wish."

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

To see the pin, go to celticjackalope dot com.


	108. Chapter 108: Golden Retrievers

Saturday, 22 December 2018

Whilst Elsie and Becky continued on Friday evening about the kilt pin, Charles himself had been fixated on other jewelry: Elsie's engagement and wedding rings. He was first and foremost concerned about Fellowes finishing them before Christmas, but also worried about how he could possibly swing by Brounker Road without Elsie's knowledge. So earlier, he'd turned to his partners in crime, the Masons.

Charles worked it out that the jeweler would phone them upon completion of the rings and they would pick them up. Only, he didn't know when the call would come, and was growing anxious to the point where his hand was beginning to shake once more.

So he was super excited when Beryl called Elsie this morning, suddenly, suggesting they come over to exchange Christmas gifts and have lunch together, _today_.

12:30 pm

Bill and Chuck greeted them at the door, the latter barking happily beside his master, the former extending a hug and kiss to Elsie and a reassuring handshake and wink for Charles.

Over lamb stew, with Chuck frolicking at their feet, the Masons outlined their plans for Christmas: a _very_ early Christmas Eve evening for just the two of them so they could be on the road and deliver Chuck to William and Lavinia's before 6:30 Christmas morning. Then, to preserve Ivy and Evelyn's belief in Father Christmas, they would wait with the neighbours at the next farm over until receiving notice the lasses were up.

Beryl was herself anxious, making the point that they wouldn't see one another again until after Charles and Elsie's return from Australia and asking, "How do you plan to _ring_ in the New Year?"

Even the mild-mannered Bill glared at his wife over that one as she hid her smirk behind her cuppa and Elsie happily shared what they knew from Sam and Bar.

Eventually, Bill stood to take Chuck out back, discreetly encouraging Charles to join him. Out of sight, Bill slipped a small wrapped box from the pocket of his fleece - he'd had the rings on his person the whole while! "I trust they're yours," he chuckled which prompted Charles' nervousness to return. "We best get back in there; somehow I don't trust my unsupervised wife to keep from telling Elsie that you're going to ask _her_ to be _your_ wife! Sometimes Beryl just can't help herself."

As Charles picked Chuck up, Bill stepped inside as Beryl asked, "And what other _engagements_ are in your diary?"

"Beryl!" Bill and Elsie exclaimed simultaneously, for different reasons; Bill for her chosen phrasing, Elsie for the Christmas present she'd just unwrapped: a tropical print string bikini which she held above the box ion the table.

When Charles turned and saw the garment, he dropped his chin, and Chuck. Pointing at its scant material, Charles inquired half seriously, "Will that fit? It seems sized more for Sybbie."

Fingering one of the strings, Beryl chuckled, "Oh, it will fit her – these are adjustable! She'll just need your help to _tie the knots_!"

2:30 pm

The journey from the Masons to South Bank Tower had never seemed longer to Charles than it did now; he couldn't wait to see the rings, but with Elsie at his side the whole way, it was impossible. As they were stepping through the revolving door, he had an idea.

"Elsie, I'm going to check the post. You head up; I'll be there momentarily." He watched as the lift doors closed behind Elsie and made sure the floor indicator rose before he felt comfortable pulling the box from his trouser pocket. He ripped off and discarded the wrapping and then turned the box so its hinge was facing away from him, and took a deep breath.

He opened it and marveled. The rings were stunning! The diamonds at the base of the prod were familiar, but at the other end, how could this be that same old Peridot? He lifted both rings out; as Fellowes said they would, in more ways than one, they fit together perfectly. The engagement ring would go on Elsie's finger first abutting the wedding band. The concave bottom surface of the engagement prod arcing up, fitting over and yet always against the wide, convex barrel of the wedding band under it. As Charles exited the post alcove, ring box hidden away again, Marco who was working the desk this afternoon noticed Charles wiping his eyes with his handkerchief.

"Everything alright, Mr. Carson?"

"Brilliant, Marco, brilliant."


	109. Chapter 109: Big Dogs Walk Late

Monday, 24 December 2018

Lots of people need all sorts of help at the holidays and Elsie Hughes knew she could especially help those who were her clients. To that end, Elsie insisted on working this Christmas Eve until noon, so Charles insisted on picking her up after, gently reminding her as they drove to Becky's then, "You're trying to juggle so much, Elsie, and mornings like last Wednesday when you rushed out forgetting your Sex just cement that for me. It reminds me of when I traveled extensively for work; the littlest thing goes amuck and all hell breaks loose."

"I know Charlie, it doesn't have to be that way and you've offered me an out." Was she considering his invitation to move in? "Let's revisit that topic, after Christmas." So it seemed.

Going on 5:00 pm, Charles showered, shaved and dressed in his navy suit, a white dress shirt and evergreen graphic print tie, then heading to Martha's, escorting her on his arm to the car and later all the way to his flat. It was the first time she'd visited; with its spectacular view, fine interior, and festive decorations, she was instantly charmed. Plus, the food was appetizing and bountiful.

After dinner, they'd opened gifts around the tree. There was Michelle Obama's BECOMING Martha wanted and perfume for her; for Becky, jigsaw puzzles from Elsie and a portfolio for her drawings from Charles.

Coincidentally, Charles and Elsie gifted one another with books: a new, paperback travel guide of Australia for him, a vintage hardcover of E E CUMMINGS: COMPLETE POEMS 1904 – 1962 for her; and clothing: hers, the woolen socks and two-piece, flannel pyjamas Elsie had mentioned in the tub a few weeks back, and his, a pair of navy with powder blue side paneled square-leg Speedos. Even though they were not briefs, Becky laughed aloud, imagining Charles strolling an Australian beach in them. Martha jumped at the opportunity to joke, "Becky may be gigglin', but Charlie won't be jigglin'!"

There was still a mountain of presents under the tree – save for the rings which Charles had hidden in his office – ready to be transported to Hampshire in the morning, but at 9:00 they all piled into the lift to take Martha home before heading to 10:15 church services.

Well after 11:00, when they had returned and the dogs were walked, the three settled around the tree, munching on biscuits as Christmas music played softly through the speakers. A big yawn from Becky prompted Elsie to call it a night. "Off to bed, ye go. Say goodnight and thank you to Charlie, I'll be in momentarily to tuck ye in." Both dogs trailed after her.

When Elsie followed minutes later, Charles retrieved the ring box, returning to the tree and gathering up the presents underneath to keep himself busy.

11:57 pm

He heard Becky's door shut, Elsie's heels approaching, and his heart pounding. "Are you checking for more from Father Christmas, Charlie? At least give him until morning," she teased.

"No, no, all's set here," he was down on one knee.

"Hand me the poetry book, please, Charlie."

He did so, noting, "There are a couple in there I especially like. Page 39 for example."

She thumbed to it and read,

 _I LIKE MY BODY WHEN IT IS WITH YOUR*_ _  
_

 _i like my body when it is with your  
body. it is so quite new a thing.  
muscles better and nerves more.  
i like your body. i like what it does,  
i like its hows..._

"Maybe just a little risqué for Christmas Eve, my darling." She closed the book and made to hand it back to him when SILENT NIGHT, sung by Australia's Dame Ellie Melba, began to play over the speakers.

He looked up, "Then try page 48. Last one tonight, I promise."

As she thumbed to there, even before she could read, Charles began, "Elsie –

 _Yours is the light by which my spirit's born:  
– you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars._

His verbatim recitation surprised her, but not nearly to the degree that his pivoting toward her, still on bended knee, did as he reached for her left hand.

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: Page numbers in the Cummings collection are entirely made up.

 _*I LIKE MY BODY WHEN IT IS WITH YOUR – e e Cummings_

i like my body when it is with your  
body. it is so quite new a thing.  
muscles better and nerves more.  
i like your body. i like what it does,  
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine  
of your body and its bones, and the trembling  
-firm-smooth ness and which i will  
again and again and again  
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,  
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz  
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes  
over parting flesh… and eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new


	110. Chapter 110: Marley & Me

Merry Christmas to all - thanks for all the merriment you have brought me this Year of the Dog!

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

Tuesday, 25 December 2018

12:00 am

 _"Yours is the light by which my spirit's born:_ _  
_ _– you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars."_

His verbatim recitation surprised her, but not nearly to the degree that his pivoting toward her, still on bended knee, did as he reached for her left hand.

He wrinkled his brow then, clarifying by way of clearing his throat, "Borrowing from e e Cummings and now Bob Marley,

 _One love, one heart_ _  
_ _Let's get together and feel alright"_

At the moment, Charles was feeling far from alright – his heart pounding and knee killing him. So, though it was tradition for the proposer to remain kneeling until hearing an answer – and Charles was ALL about upholding tradition – he stood up. And as he did so, his knee popped so loudly it sounded like a party cracker snapping.

Reacting to the noise itself that she equated with someone more Martha's age, Elsie looked down toward his knee, noting, "I'm not convinced I can be hearing this right." But Charles thought she was responding to his words.

As he found relief at his full height, Charles fished into his suit coat pocket, removed the ring box and opened it in front of her, "You are…if you think I'm asking you to marry me."

He was proposing. Marriage! He could have blown her over with a feather. He cocked his brow before he for once began worrying his lip.

"Charlie," she replied breathlessly. The sum of her life - responsibilities toward Becky, Martha, the Brighton cottage, troubled past history with men, double mastectomy, demanding career and silly dog; and just during their months together - her kidney stone bout, implant replacement, declining his invitation to move in in the name of independence and his acceptance of it ALL coupled with his own kindness and generosity - flooded her mind in that instant as the rings sparkled under the tree lights. "You broke down _every_ wall I put up and yet, you stuck by. And now here you are, asking me to be your wife." She was gently shaking her head in disbelief.

He smiled, reassuringly, "To have and to hold, to love and cherish, 'til death us do part."

"Worshiping me with your body?" she joked, to calm her own nerves.

"Aye, as Cummings suggested. AND endowing you with all my worldly goods. Elsie Mae Hughes, I love you. I want to be stuck with you. _Will you marry me_?"

Tears were forming in her eyes and it took her a moment to respond, "Charlie, if I say 'yes', it doesn't mean I stop working, I need to work - I want to work."

"I understand, but maybe some minor adjustments? I want you around - a long while."

"Aye, I'm willing to negotiate."

"Well? Does that mean?"

"Of course I'll marry you, you old booby!"

Thank God above! He slipped the engagement ring onto her finger; one of just two things that could possibly make her more beautiful in his eyes was now in its forever place. Charles explained the provenance of the gold and stones and his sketch that was the starting point for Fellowes. And with that, Elsie's tears started to fall.

"Oh, Elsie, love. Don't cry*." Whilst fighting back his own tears, Charles reached up, wiping hers away with the pads of his thumbs and planting a lingering kiss on her forehead, before they silently embraced one another.

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

*Chorus to NO WOMAN, NO CRY; Bob Marley and the Wailers (English translation):

 _No, woman, don't cry_ _  
_ _No, woman, don't cry_ _  
_ _Little darling, don't shed no tears_ _  
_ _No, woman, don't cry_


	111. You're a Good Man, Charlie Carson

Tuesday, 25 December 2018

7:20 am

Seven hours ago, Elsie crawled into bed wearing only her engagement ring and fell asleep against Charles' bare body as they told one another, "I love you," in more than words.

Now, as she tucked her grey jumper into the Clan MacGregor Ponte skirt that was a Christmas tradition of hers, she wondered how best to share last night's late, late news with Becky. Hearing barks, she knew her sister and the dogs were up. With Charles still dressing, Elsie went to speak with Becky alone.

When Elsie explained Charles' proposal and that she had accepted, the ONLY part that upset Becky was that she wasn't in on the surprise! She loved Charles and knew that he loved her too. As he came out of their bedroom wearing his charcoal trousers and camel mohair sport coat over red jumper vest, white dress shirt and green tie, Becky tackled Charles with a hug, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks that made Elsie and Charles even happier than they already felt.

Over Christmas breakfast, Charles shared the story of the Masons' role in his plot over the last weeks and Elsie was immediately compelled to speak with her dear friend. She texted Beryl, " _Call me ASAP._ "

Elsie's mobile rang not a minute later, her voice clogged with tears that Beryl heard as soon as Elsie said her name. "What's wrong, Els?"

"You knew, all along. What Charlie was planning," Elsie sniffled as she switched to speaker mode.

Beryl was nervous. "Did he...ask you?"

"Mm-hmm," Elsie then blew her nose.

Oh Lord. "And?"

After a dramatic pause, Charles couldn't take it any longer, "She said YES!"

Beryl screamed joyously then. "Oh thank goodness! Els, I...we're so happy for you. For you both! Send me a photo of the ring, Bill wouldn't let me peek Saturday and it just about killed me."

"I will, it's gorgeous and so personal, so Charlie. I love it, just like I love him." Elsie reached for his hand which met hers halfway. They could hear Chuck's high-pitched barks in the background.

"How do the lasses like Chuck?" Charles inquired.

"Oh they're in love too!"

"Wonderful! We'll leave you be now to a happy Christmas!"

"The happiest ever! Congratulations to you, sweethearts, you're perfect for one another!"

Charles then asked Elsie to call Martha, not with the engagement news, but to join them in traveling to Hampshire. Another would be most welcome at the Granthams and Charles anticipated celebrating their engagement and felt Martha should be there.

11:40 am

The Bransons and Gregsons had arrived at Robert and Cora's in the last few days. Last night, Sybbie was given the honour of sharing the news of her baby sister or brother, due next summer. Of course, all were excited about that prospect but the news Elsie and Charles shared this morning delighted the extended Grantham family all the more.

Maggie was the first to kiss them both though she did clarify for Charles, "I'm afraid this does not mean you get out of polishing the silver or setting the table for our Christmas Lunch."

Next was Robert who kissed Elsie before 'punching' Charles on the shoulder. "On, you dog you! Why didn't you tell me? Oh never mind, this deserves a Champagne toast! Michael, would you please fetch two bottles of Veuve Clicquot from the cellar?"

Champagne and sparkling grape juice were quickly poured and Robert took charge in an attempt to toast "the old bloke, Charles Ernest Carson and his bride-to-be" yet was so emotionally overcome with the good fortune in his family this Christmas that he could not continue. Charles stepped up and filled the silence by explaining that he was, "the happiest and luckiest of men and simply bursting with pride" that Elsie was to become his wife. Speaking for the both of them, they had not yet picked let alone discussed a date, but wished all would be witness to their exchanging of vows. And then, sensing Robert had recovered, Charles asked him before all and sundry if he would do him the honour of standing once again as his best mate on the big day.

"I'll be there with bells on!" was Robert's enthusiastic and affirmative reply.

"Come with me, Martha," Maggie encouraged, 'I'm glad to have a new face amongst our gathering. The presence of strangers is our only guarantee of good behaviour."

2:10 pm

After the dining table was cleared, Maggie came round to Charles and Elsie in a tete tete, "I do hope I'm interrupting something. Charles, does today's announcement change our little tradition?"

"No, we carry on, but perhaps with one modification. Elsie, love, would you care to accompany Maggie and me...to Alice's grave?"

"I'd like that very much," Elsie assured him.

Charles had driven Maggie to the Grantham family plot every Christmas since Alice had died. Maggie arranged the pine bough swag to be hung on the fence surrounding the full plot every year, and the mistletoe to be hung on the headstones of her beloved husband Patrick, and Alice.

"Charles, perhaps next year you won't wish for the mistletoe."

It was Elsie who answered for him, "I wish there to be mistletoe, absolutely. It's a lovely gesture, and besides, Alice's prophecy came true - at Christmastime, no less." Charles wasn't entirely certain of what Elsie was referencing, until she quoted from the letter Maggie and others had delivered from Alice at last May's intervention. "'Some day my husband may want to marry you'," Elsie recited the line that had distracted her since she and Charles became very serious. Alice's good and dear husband was now due to become her good and dear husband.

Charles closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to steady himself, how lucky he was to have fallen in love with these two extraordinary women.

"So it will be then, but if you want this old bat in attendance at your wedding, you best not wait forever and a day. For now, though, let's head back in consideration of the anxiousness of the littlest amongst us."

3:05 pm

When all gathered around the tree in the library, among the gifts was a book Sybbie made for Charles. After he unwrapped it, she proudly thumbed through it with him reading aloud for all to hear the words she herself had written and showing the two page drawing spreads accompanying each sentiment:

"THE IMPORTANT BOOK, words and illustrations by Sybbie Cora Branson, Christmas 2018

The most important thing about C.C. is he took care of me when I was sick with chickenpox.

He shares my love for ballet.

C.C. goes swimming with me.

He helped me build a hutch for my rabbits, Teapot and Biscuit.

C.C. lets me help set a proper table.

He sits and draws with me.

C.C. teaches me history, architecture and grammar.

He leads me on adventures around London.

C.C. reads me bedtime stories and makes funny voices.

He performs magic tricks for me.

But the most important thing about C.C. is, he took care of me when I was sick with chickenpox."

As Sybbie handed him the book she kissed his cheek and Charles pulled her into his lap. "Thank you, Munchkin, I love the book and I love you," he whispered.

Sensing the crowd needed some levity, Maggie piped in with mention of the gift Sybbie had opened earlier from Charles, "And there will need to be an epilogue, Sybbie, 'C.C. buys me things no one else will, including slime kits.'"

The room erupted in laughter whilst Charles defended his actions, "What? It's what she said she wanted."

"Yes, thank you Uncle Carson, I can't wait to find where all slime can be left behind in a house as big as ours," Sybil teased. "Regardless, Sybbie is not the only one grateful for your taking care of her when she was sick. The next gift builds on that, from me and Tom." She handed Charles an envelope then.

Rarely did the adults exchange Christmas gifts in this crowd, the togetherness being judged the best gift of all. Charles shifted Sybbie onto his right knee before taking the envelope. "It says, 'To Uncle Carson and Aunt Elsie,'" he smiled.

"A slight alteration this morning!" Sybil clarified, proudly.

Charles opened the envelope and carefully read the papers inside, "Wow, fantastic!" Looking up then, he embellished, "Elsie, love, there are tickets for Sydney - to tour the Opera House, eat at one of its restaurants and then see a performance! Thank you, thank you very much."

"No, thank you, Charles, Elsie," Tom acknowledged.

"Can I go?" Sybbie asked innocently.

"This one you MAY not," Charles clarified before tickling her side making her giggle.

Elsie stood up and retrieved another envelope from under the tree then, one that they'd brought along from London. "Mr. Carson, perhaps it's a good time to gift this one to Miss Branson," she walked over and held it out. Charles brushed her hand with his fingers as he took it from her and smiled, adoringly.

"Sybbie, this is for you. So you know there's more to life than slime."

With all the restraint any 7-year old can muster on Christmas, Sybbie began to tear into the envelope prompting Charles to encourage some restraint. "Can you read that word, Sybbie?" Charles pointed to the paper and helped her sound it out.

She became very animated suddenly, "Mummy, daddy! I'm going to see THE NUTCRACKER ballet!"


	112. Chapter 112: Hush Puppies

Wednesday, 26 December 2018

12:40 pm

Twelve months ago, when Charles had the members-only opportunity to purchase pre-sale tickets to the 2018 English National Ballet's NUTCRACKER performances at The London Coliseum, he ordered six tickets. The optimist in him hoped to take Sybbie, her parents and two others, most likely Robert and Cora; the pessimist said, worst case scenario, he could donate them all. Of course, he was delighted and still in a bit of wonder of the magic that had unfolded this year that afforded him the opportunity now to accompany an almost entirely different roster of ticket-holders than he had originally planned.

Charles had just walked into his living room and sat down, to tie his shoes. "How do I look, Sybbie?"

The lass looked up from where she was playing on the floor with Igor to answer him, "Mmm, kind of like Teapot."

"What does that mean?" he asked, uncertainly as he too looked up.

Sybbie stood and walked over to Charles. "Well, Teapot has grey fur, like your hair. And, he has two floppy ears but you have one floppy curl - here." She reached up and tucked it back for him and smiled when it seemed to be tamed. For extra measure, Mr. Never-by-Halves ran his own hand through, "Thank you, Munchkin. That's usually Elsie's job anymore, so I appreciate you stepping in for her when she's not around."

"Where is she?"

"Right now, at work, she'll meet us there."

"At the tea room?"

"No, at The Coliseum - the ballet. For now, though, we need to go to hospital."

"Are you feeling unwell, C.C.?" she asked, alarmed.

"No, I feel great. We need to go there to pick up George. His mummy delivered his baby brother there earlier today.

Charles had invited George along prior to Christmas, knowing full well the baby was expected any day. It worked out perfectly for all as Matthew's mother, having received word of her new grandson, was traveling down from Manchester and would care for George later this afternoon and evening, once they were home from THE NUTCRACKER.

1:30 pm

It was quite an exciting day for young George Talbot, what with a new brother he wanted to name 'Arthur' in tribute to his new fixation with the film AQUAMAN. Yes, it was quite an exciting day, and it showed. And it rubbed off on Sybbie and together, despite Charles' best efforts and interest in their behaving as a proper young lad and lass, found himself quieting them down repeatedly at the tea room he had taken them to before the ballet. It was only when he threatened not going to the ballet at all did they calm themselves.

2:25 pm

The children's misbehaviour meant they were late arriving and Elsie was relieved to spot them running up the stairs outside, Charles in the middle - in a suit and tie, of course - holding each of the children by the hand.

"You made it, barely!" Elsie noticed looking down at her watch. "Whyever the rush?"

"I'll tell you later," Charles explained as he dried his forehead with his handkerchief. "For now, quick introductions. Master George Talbot, this is Ms. Elsie's sister, Miss Becky, and Mr. Clifford. And Miss Sybbie Branson. Elsie, we should go in."

"Come along, children."

As they began to walk through the lobby, George asked Clifford, "Are you really a dancer? I thought only girls do ballet."

"Boys most certainly do ballet, and yes, I am one of them, or I was and hope to be again." It is the reason Charles and Elsie agreed to invite Clifford today; Charles could make some introductions. Plus, Clifford had completed Elsie's counseling plan and she didn't consider it a case of favouritism.

The orchestra was tuning up as they took their seats, two sets of three, one row in front of the other. On the left, George sat in front of Charles, Sybbie in front of Elsie in the middle, and Becky to the right, in front of Clifford.

But unable to see into the pit, nor any of the dancers - and tea cakes in their bloodstreams - the children were restless and becoming chatty again, even as the lights began to dim. Charles leaned forward then and in a stern whisper, demanded, "Sybbie, George - HUSH!"


	113. Chapter 113: Dog Beds

Saturday, 29 December 2018

As always, Charles had done his research. When booking their international flights, not only had he arranged to be on the one-stop to Sydney via Perth, but he'd also selected their departure day based on the availability of seats in the Business Class cabin. Specifically, row 6 – not too close to any bassinets fore or aft, not too close to crew galleys or lavatories – seats E and F, side-by-side in the centre where they might hold hands, albeit awkwardly around the privacy divider. Of course, Charles insisted on sitting to Elsie's left, where he'd be closest to her engagement ring.

With Sydney going on 11 pm at the time of their mid-day Friday departure from Heathrow, Charles had also suggested they were best served with attempting to sleep immediately after takeoff to sync up their body clocks with the new time zone. Which he had no problem doing, but Elsie was much too excited for her first honest-to-God holiday in forever for sleep to find her. So as Charles had stretched out in his fully-flat "bed", Elsie sat up, thumbing through the travel guide she'd gifted him. She'd perused before Christmas and was revisiting pages that had caught her eye then.

Charles had woken and sat up for the luncheon service and then after their trays were cleared, he encouraged her to sleep. So Elsie had tucked the book away and mimicking Charles, turned off her light, reclined, inserted her earplugs, pulled down her eye mask, and pulled her blanket up to her shoulders. After a few hours of sleep, they both had woken and decided it was wise to stand up for a while, so they made their way together toward the galley nearest the Business Class lavatories where, as unromantic as the location might be, they found themselves discussing for the first time in any deep detail what all they wished to do on this holiday beyond their Sunday at the Opera House, time together for New Year's with Sam and Bar, and Charles' symposium and commitments related to Wednesday's speaking engagement.

4:30 am AET

"Elsie, love, there are _just_ two things that I have to make sure I see; one in Sydney one in Tasmania."

"I know exactly what you're going to say, Charlie. Firstly, Sydney Cricket Ground."

"Exactly, to see where the bloody Aussie's snatched The Ashes away from us last January. How did you know?"

She rolled her eyes, "I think you just answered yourself. Second, MONA – it's the sole reason you added Tasmania to our itinerary, aye?"

"Well, the collection is supposed to be among the best in the world, but its setting – and our lodging - within the winery there sounded fantastic when I watched a feature on Tassie on the telly a couple years ago. So yes, you know all that I want to do. How about you, love?"

"Mmm, my wishes are even simpler. As an over-worked, rarely-ever-on-holiday professional – "

"That's going to change, Elsie, at the latest, once we're married."

"I like the sound of that, Mr. Carson, but also as a newly-engaged woman of late middle age, over these next two weeks, I want to stroll hand-in-hand with my fiancé, spend lazy days in the sunshine and not-so-lazy nights in bed with him." She tilted her head and bit down on her lip in that way that he found so seductive.

Gently, he pulled her toward him and began nibbling behind her ear where he could discretely whisper, "Oh what you do to tease me, Elsie."

"You should talk, Charlie. What you're doing to me right now, that's how membership in the Mile High Club begins."

He chuckled then, incredulously, assuring her that was too risqué for his style.

They returned to their seats. With 10 hours still to go in the flight, Charles pulled out his laptop to review his presentation once more. He had it finely tuned already but realized once they were on the ground, he wouldn't want to look at it again until Wednesday. Whilst Charles worked, Elsie tuned into films, favouring romantic comedies. In time, Charles closed his laptop and watched a series of historical documentaries. Elsie shook her head; they had some very different interests.

9:00 am AET

"Charlie."

"Yes, love?"

"This film I've just watched, well, the couple gets married in the end. It's got me thinking about when we'll get married. Do you have a timeframe in mind?"

"The sooner the better."

"Is there such a thing as too soon?"

"You aren't telling me you're pregnant, are you?" They both knew he was joking, but the way they went at it…"

"Of course, not. Don't change subjects."

"No, there's no such thing as too soon."

"I don't think so either, I mean Charlie, you're 62, and this will be your second marriage. I'm turning 56 whilst we're on this holiday and though it's my first wedding – and I intend for it to be my last – I don't need or want the fuss of a big wedding."

"You don't?"

"No, not in the least."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I want Martha and Maggie able to be there. As she said, let's not wait forever and a day."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"We met on the first day of the Lunar New Year. It's our year, the Year of the Dog."

"16 February, at Yew Tree. I remember."

"So why don't we get married during our Year? Becky and I looked it up the other day; I don't want to get married during the Year of the Pig."

"We could serve bacon."

"The New Year begins 5 February."

"That's quick!"

"Yes, and it's also a Tuesday. We'll pay a fortune and wait for months and months if we get married on a Friday, Saturday or likely even a Sunday for that matter."

"Are you saying get married, Monday, 4 February?"

"Aye." He seemed even more doubtful. "Look, Beryl wants to cook, you know that as well as I do. We could have a nice little ceremony somewhere – "

"It needs to be at church."

"Okay, church wedding, I'm still certain we can get that easily on a Monday morning."

"If there isn't a funeral."

"Weddings take precedence over booking any funeral. Anyway, a nice little church ceremony and a wedding breakfast thereafter. Sybbie can go to school that afternoon, anyone who works can do so that afternoon too."

"Except for you. You will not go to the office on our wedding day."

"But what if you come with me, we lock the door, and make our way to my sofa where you yourself have said, "Good things happen there," she teased. "It's where I had Sex the last time you visited."

He opened his mouth to say something and then stopped to pick his words. "Erm, some other time, just not on our wedding day. OK, I'll send an email once we're on the ground in Perth to inquire of the church and viccar's availability, on 4 February."

"2019. 4 February 2019."

"Indeed." He smiled then realizing that they might be getting married far earlier than he'd hoped and dreamed.

9:50 pm AET

They were in their taxi from Sydney Airport, heading to the Glenferrie Lodge in Kirribilli. As they began to climb the Harbour Bridge, fireworks out the passenger side windows caught their eye. "What's that all?"

"Fireworks at Harbourside in Darling Harbour, mate," the driver answered. "One of Sydney's most glorious waterfront locations. Be sure to see it up close during your stay."

Upon checking in, they were helped to their room by a bellhop. On the lift, they were told they had the property"s largest and nicest room: the King room with en suite. After a terribly long day of travel, just about any room and any bed would have been welcome but what greeted them was a great view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge that made Charles drop the valise he was carrying. As they gawked, the young man went on to explain, "We're right around the corner of the Kirribilli Wharf. It will be very convenient for you to travel by ferry to the city and elsewhere around the Harbour." Charles tipped him and shut the door before collapsing on the bed, Elsie joining him momentarily.

"I'm beat."

"Me too, but we're here now and can have a nice lie-in tomorrow morning."

As they unpacked their toiletries and hung their clothes, Elsie noticed a card on the fruit bowl on the table. It was from Sam and Bar.

 _Welcome to Sydney, Elsie and Charles!_

 _Trust you're exhausted. These local treats will help rejuvenate you._

 _We'll be back from Christmas holiday Sunday evening._

 _Until then, enjoy exploring our beautiful Sydney!_

 _\- Sam and Bar_

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N1: Their arrival in Sydney is too late for the actual 8:30-8:40 pm Saturday night fireworks that occur weekly at Darling Harbour, but a quick wave of my FanFic wand and Elsie and Charles get to see them!

A/N2: The traffic graph I see tells me not everyone who has come along through Chapters 112/113 has read Charles' midnight proposal in BIG DOGS WALK LATE. Take some time this holiday weekend to catch up on chapters you haven't read.


	114. Chapter 114: Beethoven

Sunday, 30 December 2018

After their Sunday morning lie-in and breakfast, they inquired about directions to the ferry. The desk clerk pointed them to the two minute, gentle downhill walk to the Kirribilli Wharf where they could board the Circular Quay-bound F5 Ferry. Whilst waiting with other passengers, they helped one another apply sunscreen to their pasty skin. On board, they initially stood near the starboard rail, awed by the scale of the Harbour Bridge. As they neared Circular Quay, Charles asked they switch to port to better see the Opera House. Their tour was later today and based on that and his anxiousness at seeing the Cricket Ground, they walked first to the city centre.

After wandering mainly deserted central business district streets, they reached Sydney Cricket & Sport Ground Trust in Moore Park, walking its perimeter. The little devil on Charles' gentlemanly shoulder wanted him to do some dastardly little thing to leave his mark on the complex, instead he simply declared, "We'll get The Ashes back!"

Thereafter, they took in the city's vibrant sights. When their feet grew tired, they stopped, Elsie reminding him this was good, early conditioning for the 2019 MoonWalk. Eventually back near the Quay, they wandered the Rocks Markets, buying some handmade goods as gifts. Later still, a rooftop table at the MCA Café with a Harbour view was where they luncheoned.

3:20 pm

They gathered with fellow tourists on the main steps of the Opera House, ready to begin their outdoor and indoor tour of this World Heritage-listed masterpiece. Naturally, Charles could appreciate the complexity behind the construction of the building's shells and arches, knew all about the glazed tiles of the roof panels that appear as single surfaces from a distance. He relished sharing this knowledge with Elsie, supplementing what the 20-something tour guide did. Yet he still had questions. At one point, Elsie put her hand on his arm, encouraging him to stop playing "Stump the Guide." The interiors were stunning too and Charles was thrilled they were attending tonight's symphony to appreciate the Concert Hall's acoustics.

Elsie took several photos of Charles in his element, marveling at the building. Before they left Bennelong Point, she handed him her mobile encouraging, "Your long arms are going to come in very handy for Selfies of us, Charlie!"

6:05 pm

They'd briefly rested before preparing for the evening. Charles dressed in his ultra-sexy white linen suit, navy shirt and tie, Elsie in a sleeveless, powder blue A-line dress paired with black pashmina, slingback sandals and clutch. Then it was back to the Wharf for another trip across the Harbour, turning a few heads along the way.

6:30 pm

Their booking in the Opera House's pavilion was for a two-top along the windows. With its spectacular, cathedral-like interior, it was easy to see how it was referred to as 'the Opera House in miniature.'

"Welcome to Bennelong Mr. Carson, ma'am. I understand we're celebrating something special this evening," their waiter, Ray, greeted them.

"Yes, first trip to Australia, first full day in Sydney, and most importantly, our engagement."

"Congratulations to you both! Would you care for a bottle of Champagne?"

"Best not tonight, Elsie?" She agreed. "We've some jet lag and are attending the symphony. How about a nice bottle of Australian Sauvignon Blanc instead?" Charles looked Elsie's way for confirmation despite knowing it was her favourite white.

"That sounds delightful."

"Excellent, there are a few I can recommend, let me tell you a bit about the menu as that might steer you one way or the other. One critic has described our menu as 'Australia on a plate.' Chef Peter Gilmore mandates we be 'a great Australian restaurant for our greatest building.' Accordingly, Australian produce, cheeses, seafood and lamb take centre stage to showcase the flavour, diversity and quality of the food you'll find across Australia. My personal favourites include…"

The meal lived up to the hype and it was capped by a jawdropping, complimentary Pavlova. The signature pudding at Bennelong was an assembly of poached, seasonal fruits dotted in double creme and Italian meringue topped with meringue crisps assembled to look like the Opera House.

8:00 pm

Maestro Edo de Waart, former chief conductor of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, came on stage accompanied by a round of applause, launching the SSO into a performance of Haydn's SYMPHONY NUMBER 104, appropriate given that its first performance was at King's Theatre in London more than two centuries ago. It took Charles back to the first live performance they'd attended together. Like at ALICE IN WONDERLAND, they held hands throughout the performance and were so enjoying themselves.

Similarly, after the intermission, as de Waart conducted Beethoven's greatest work accompanied by Amanda Majeski (soprano), Caitlin Hulcup (mezzo-soprano), Kim Begley (tenor) and the Sydney Philharmonia Choirs, SYMPHONY NUMBER 9 projected optimism. The bravura program brought Elsie to tears and the entire audience to their feet at the end.

Before returning to the ferry, a passing Sydneysider offered to take their photo with the Opera House in the background. Charles was concerned about the flash but the young woman encouraged, "Let's give it a go, mate!" The photo turned out perfectly and was one they sent to Sybil along with others from their day at the Opera House.

But Beethoven tonight really was an ODE TO JOY, one that Charles hummed in her ear as they rode back to Kirribilli, and again as they crawled into bed for their last night's sleep of 2018

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: To see the dessert, search Erina Starkey's 27 March 2018 feature on "cult desserts" at Concrete Playground Pty Ltd. Also, this was a recent SSO concert.


	115. Chapter 115: Party Animals

Tuesday, 1 January 2019

As Sydney's New Year's Eve pre-show entertainment began, Elsie and Charles had walked through ever-thickening crowds from the Botanic Gardens over the Harbour Bridge to Kirribilli. They had been invited to arrive at Sam and Bar's by 7:30 for some time just amongst the four of them.

Once changed into their "festive casual attire," the two had taken their now familiar walk to the Wharf for a short, three stop ferry ride clockwise around Neutral Bay, exiting at the Kurraba Point Wharf. They had then walked a few minutes south toward the Point itself and the multi-floor building where Samantha and Barnaby lived.

With their place of lodging _immediately_ north and east of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and directly across from the Opera House, neither Charles nor Elsie could have imagined a better vantage point for ringing in 2019. And yet, Sam and Bar's home proved better, a higher elevation and an unobstructed view of these magnificent landmarks. Sam and Bar welcomed their old friend Charles and his fiancée; Charles took great pride in introducing Elsie this way.

Throughout the short time they'd been in town, it was obvious to Charles and Elsie that Sydney Harbour was always alive, but as the sun set in the early 8:00 hour, the city's centerpiece became more animated. At 9:00 the family-friendly New Year's Eve fireworks display began, followed by the Harbour of Light Parade, one of the dazzling highlights of the spectacular night. Made up of a series of ships each decorated with special rope lights, the Light Parade from Goat Island to Cockatoo Island and back saw the vessels dance across the Harbour. The ropes' changing colours added to the unique choreography dazzling the crowds of all ages.

About the time it started, other guests had begun to arrive, three other couples in the building with whom Sam and Bar shared a New Year's tradition of a progressive dinner party. Charles and Elsie were perfectly enchanted with the Parade and they begged off from the others multiple times throughout the evening in order to catch another glimpse, alone together on patios, Charles typically standing behind Elsie with his hands on her shoulders or around her waist.

12:00 am

"Happy New Year!" an even larger crowd of neighbours shouted as they popped Champagne corks where all had gathered on the communal roof deck. Amateur firecrackers went off in the neighbourhoods behind them whilst a huge range of coordinated pyrotechnics began to light the Sydney sky from multiple firing points: on the Harbour Bridge, Opera House and barges in the Harbour.

"Oh, Charlie," was all Elsie could say as she briefly tore her eyes away from the celebration and turned to him on her left, as she placed her hand on his arm.

Charles scooted closer in order to be heard. "2019. The year we get married!" he smiled, adoringly. "It will be a different life."

"But we can make a go of it, Charlie, and I definitely mean to try," she grinned adoringly. Charles leaned down for their first kiss of 2019. "Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year, Elsie."

They stood there with the other revelers for several minutes as the fireworks continued. Elsie took out her mobile to capture a bit of the display to send to Becky. Bar too was snapping photos and captured a great one as Charles and Elsie kissed with fireworks and the Sydney skyline in the background. On the heels of the finale, Elsie wasn't ready for the celebrating to end and so she broke into song, the others quickly joining in, though their voices faded as Elsie continued, in the traditional Scottish phrasing.

 _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
and never brought to mind?  
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
and auld lang syne?_

 _For auld lang syne, my jo,  
for auld lang syne,  
we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,  
for auld lang syne.  
And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!  
and surely I'll be mine!  
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,  
for auld lang syne._

 _We twa hae run about the braes,  
and pu'd the gowans fine;  
But we've wander'd mony a weary foot,  
sin auld lang syne._

 _We twa hae paidl'd i' the burn,  
frae morning sun till dine;  
But seas between us braid hae roar'd  
sin auld lang syne._

 _And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!  
and gie's a hand o' thine!  
And we'll tak a right gude-willy waught,  
for auld lang syne._

As the others on the rooftop began to applaud, Charles beamed, "My sweet, Scottish lass," before kissing her again, deeply this time.

One of their new acquaintances called out, "Take a bow, Elsie!" but she stayed right where she was, right where she wanted and was meant to be.

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: Happy New Year, all my sweets!


	116. Chapter 116: Bow-WOW!

Fireworks needn't be limited to 1 January! A little M, NSFW in NSW to start the New Year!

Wednesday, 2 January 2019

Whilst hour one of 2019 was Elsie's first chance to shine and take a bow in the new year, day two gave Charles his opportunity. He stole the show at the University of New South Wales' _English Estates through the AGES: Architecture, Grounds, Etiquette and Staff_ symposium.

Some of Charles' success was simply that he was the only panelist from outside of Sydney's two premiere universities, UNSW and the University of Sydney. Some of it was that he was a true Englishman speaking on a topic rooted in England. Some of it was his storytelling that included vintage photos and film clips summarizing his and Alice's work restoring Highclere Castle which the audience all knew – and romanticized about – in their obsession with DOWNTON ABBEY.

Sam knew this would be a hook when she'd first invited Charles. And she had also felt confident of another ingredient to Charles' success: that he would connect with the audience. Indeed, Elsie, sitting amongst them in a reserved seat near the front, found that he was charming them all; flashing a boyish grin; engaging them in the architecture topic with confidence not arrogance; being animated in his choice of words, gestures and expressions; and demonstrating a quick sense of humour that earned him the most and loudest applause. These traits were all clear particularly when the panelists were later seated together on the stage and May Bird, responding to a question about the celibate lives of butlers, housekeepers and cooks verbally slipped, suggesting someone give _her_ a prod. Egged on by Charles' expressive reaction on her immediate left, the audience erupted.

It had not been an easy road there, however.

Over their New Year's Day brunch along the Esplenade on Balmoral Beach in Mosman, Samantha had casually shared her excitement over the 900-some who had registered in advance for the symposium, meaning every last seat in the University auditorium would be filled.

Charles had immediately tensed up at her mention of the figure, yet only Elsie had noticed. After brunch, with Sam having final preparations to attend to, she had dropped Bar, Charles and Elsie off at Sydney's Taronga Zoo to enjoy that Mosman treasure. On the way through the "Dog Row" exhibit, Elsie had commented on Igor, wondering if he was behaving for Sybil and Tom who were watching him.

Sharing a casual dinner for two at one of the Kirribilli neighbourhood eateries Tuesday night, Charles had admitted his nervousness about the audience size. At the time, Elsie had joked, "Try the old adage of picturing them all in their unmentionables," to which, Charles shook his head, doubtfully, "I fear they'll be picturing _me_ in my Speedos."

Elsie the therapist found herself stepping up then, asking Charles exactly how big he had thought the audience would be ("considerably smaller"). The daft man, did he really think Sam and her University would pick up their travel from London for a "considerably smaller" event? To which Charles clarified that his previous mention of "all expenses paid" was in fact just his symposium-related expenses. Charles had paid for her ticket entirely, their side trip to Hobart and extra days' lodging there and in Perth; effectively the whole of their holiday. Elsie was upset at first but then recognized he did it all out of love, and this was a glimpse of what he'd meant when he said marriage "would be a different life."

Knowing the way to Charles' heart was through his sweet tooth, she insisted they stop after dinner at the gelateria two storefronts away. Elsie ordered candy floss-flavoured that was blue in colour whilst Charles ordered the red dragon fruit; Elsie teased whether that was because she was his Scottish dragon but received little response. Back at their room, as she settled on his lap in one of the chairs on their little patio, running her fingers through his hair, Elsie was still focused on easing his concerns about the symposium. Yet, despite the bath she'd also encouraged him to take later, Elsie noted that he had slept fitfully and this morning on a pre-breakfast walk, his right hand was shaking.

But a good therapist does not abandon her client when he needs her the most. And so she'd doubled down when they'd returned to their room after breakfast.

As she had tossed her clutch down on their unmade bed, Elsie walked straight into their en suite for a washcloth and back out again where she told him, "Charlie, you need a distraction, and I am going to give it to you."

"Elsie!" he gasped when she snaked her left hand under his shirt tails and into his shorts where her thumb stroked his warm member a couple of times before she momentarily wrapped her hand around him. Then, in one motion, she had extracted her hand, unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, and pulled them down his thighs noting his deep breathing and arousal.

She had grabbed him again through his shorts and he stumbled backward against the wall finding stability only when his upper back and arms were pressing against it. As she bowed down and rested her bottom on her heels, she was face to face with his tip that was stretching the white cotton of his shorts. As Charles looked down, Elsie looked up. Knowing Charles needn't worry about a crowd of people most of whom he would likely never see again, Elsie advised, "Forget about all and sundry in their unmentionables, Charlie. If need be, you just think of this later." Licking her lips, she pulled his shorts down then. Instinctively clenching her own tingly center, she trailed her fingertips along his rigid shaft before flicking the tip with her tongue, making him twitch. She heard the back of Charles' head hit the wall. His knees were still weak, his eyes squeezed shut and he was wincing enough for her to stop in order to ask, "Are you alright?"

Without opening his eyes, he confirmed breathlessly, "Mm-hmm."

She took him fully in her mouth then, delivering a most pleasurable distraction that left Charles with his near-permanent grin thereafter.

6:45 pm

All that floated through Elsie's mind as she sat in the audience watching him on the stage in his white linen suit. She couldn't help but smirk then, or smile later at Charles as he sipped his white wine across their al fresco dinner table from her, overlooking Darling Harbour. They had joined Sam and Bar, the other presenters, Dean Elcot, Provost Stowell, and their spouses/ significant others and Elsie was chatting with Mr. Watson the etiquette expert seated beside her, "But if you eat a grapefruit with the wrong spoon, Charlie goes berserk!"

"Why yes, but that's cutlery!"

Interrupting from her other side, Provost Stowell asked, "Elsie, has Charles ever thought of teaching? He'd be excellent at it."

Raising her own wine glass to her lips, Elsie looked over at her man who was now engrossed in entertaining Dean Elcot with a magic trick utilizing her linen napkin. "Good question. I don't know. But I do know he is an excellent student."


	117. Chapter 117: Salty Dogs

Thursday, 3 January 2019

Elsie and Charles were - at last - fully on holiday. Yet, with only two days remaining in Sydney, they had to prioritize, settling on shopping then the beaches. Reasoning that taking the ferry to Manly could be part of an extended farewell to Sydney spent criss-crossing the Harbour on Friday before their evening flight to Tasmania, today was Bondi Beach.

2:30 pm

They'd asked their taxi driver to drop them at a hole-in-the-wall on Glasgow Avenue recommended by the Glenferrie Lodge desk clerk. There, at the counter service-only establishment, they enjoyed a lick-your-fingers paper bag lunch of grilled fish tacos for Elsie, fish and chips for Charles. Before heading to the beach, Charles complimented the short order cook. He'd favoured fish and chips all his life on three continents now, and these were amongst the best he'd ever eaten.

As they approached Campbell Parade and the beach beyond, they saw dozens of Aussies in their swimwear. As nearly all appeared to be younger than them, and more buff, both Charles and Elsie were hesitant to strip to their swimwear underneath. Until she shared her reasoning about Wednesday's symposium audience as it applied now, too: why worry if you're never seeing these people again? As the afternoon unfolded, they marveled at the surfers' feats and alternated frolicking in the water together and reading on the beach, Elsie working her way through a romance novel Martha had loaned her for the trip, Charles his Australian travel guide.

Ready for another cooling dip, Charles stood but Elsie opted to sit this one out telling him, "Be careful out there." Pretending to read whilst laying on her stomach, she watched Charles as he walked toward and into the water and then dove under when it was hip deep. He surfaced then proceeded to float on his back. Elsie had returned to reading when she noticed him stand up and walk out. "Looking a bit like Daniel Craig there in CASINO ROYALE, Charlie," she greeted him as he came nearer.

"Minx!" He shook his towel off then, sand landing on her backside.

"Hey!" she flipped over to find him wrapping his olive green towel around his waist. Gesturing at the wet fabric, "Or perhaps another 007, Sean Connery."

He understood the connection. "You and your men in kilts!"

As Charles reached into her beach bag for the sunscreen, even though she knew what his answer would be, she asked him something she'd fantasizes about. "Charlie, would you ever wear a kilt?"

He supplemented his frown with an emphatic, "Never!"

"Not even for your Scottish dragon?"

"Not even for you, my darling."

She flipped over onto her stomach once again, shimmying her bottom a bit more than necessary. "Tis a shame. It would make you that much more accessible for moments like yesterday morning's at the Lodge." The tube of sunscreen fell to the sand.

8:45 pm

Charles had also asked at the desk for a dinner recommendation, somewhere romantic and special for their last night in Sydney. Cozy and historic, The Boathouse on Blackwattle Bay delivered from the quiet setting overlooking the water and Anzac Bridge to wine selections and local, fresh oysters and fish. When their Lamingtons were delivered for the last course, Elsie asked Charles to take her photo beside them, telling him of the Pink Lamingtons Beryl had served last spring when their MoonWalk bras were decorated. As he went to put his mobile away, he noticed a new message.

"Pastor Vyner's replied," he scrolled through, anxiously. "He's not available on 4 Feb, but the church is. He wants to know if we should book it."

"Aye, I think we should. Do you know how to reach Reverend Travis from Hampshire?"

"London's a bit far for someone outside his congregation, Elsie."

"But if Maggie or Robert asked him -"

"But if they asked, he'd likely say yes. I'll email Ham. We should probably start working on a guest list."

Pulling out her mobile then, Elsie explained proudly, "I've already begun."


	118. Chapter 118: On Heat

Friday, 4 January 2019

6:05 pm

Wistfully, Elsie waved goodbye to Sydney out her window as their plane climbed into the early evening sky, bound for the Tasmanian capital. Charles leaned over to catch a last glimpse himself, adding, "Cheers, mate." After a few minutes of reflection, Charles admitted, "You know Elsie, I couldn't imagine ever leaving London. On the other hand, Sydney presents a compelling alternative."

9:25 pm

It took 24 hours to hear back on the matter, but Reverend Travis would be delighted to marry them - on 4 February. The wedding was on!

Charles was confident South Bank Tower's Winter Garden could be booked for the reception - if and only if Elsie wanted their wedding breakfast there. He loved the space and knew Elsie had high regard for Alice and her work but he didn't want Alice's ghost hanging over her, ever but especially not on her wedding day. He would let Elsie decide where their wedding breakfast should be.

Under darkness of night, they'd checked into their private MONA Pavilion - the Arthur - within the Moorilla Winery on the Berriedale peninsula in Hobart. Waiting for their room service light supper to be delivered from The Source restaurant also on property, they cuddled on the sofa in their sitting room looking at the screen on Charles' laptop.

"Will this do, Mr. Carson?"

Charles considered the content on the screen, scrutinizing the font, the size, and above all the words laid out below their silhouettes in the New Year's fireworks photo Bar had sent from his mobile. It was true, there wasn't enough time to order and send engraved wedding invitations which Charles deemed the proper way to do things, so Elsie had shown him where they could design a custom digital invite themselves. They'd drafted it here together, with love, in just a few minutes time. The arrival of the photo from Bar was serendipitous. It was festive, and it captured the joy and passion between them.

The honour of your presence is requested by

Elsie Mae Hughes & Charles Ernest Carson

at their nuptials

Monday, 4 February 2019 9:30 am

The Church of Saints Mary & Matthew

Battersea, London

Wedding breakfast to follow

"All things considered, it's perfect. Send it!"

She looked up at him for confirmation and he nodded emphatically with a smile on his face. She clicked the return button and 20 some invitations were on their way to inboxes back home.

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

No need to check your inbox - you ARE invited!

Also, the invitation was input as centered text but FF kept left justifying it. It really was perfect that way!


	119. Chapter 119: Isle of Dogs

Monday, 7 January 2019

Elsie and Charles had spent their Tasmanian weekend leisurely exploring the local culture, natural beauty and artistry including an abundance of tasty local food and wine. The Museum of Old and New Art was literally steps away from their magnificent-in-its-own-right pavilion, though old Hobart was their first destination on Saturday. To get the full experience, Charles had arranged for the two of them to ride the MONA ferry in a bit of a reverse commute than most, starting their day at the Museum's dock and riding it south down the River Derwent to Hobart's waterfront.

There, they took in Salamanca Place and the Saturday Salamanca Market. With some 300 stalls, many selling locally made bespoke jewelry, ceramics, leather, Tasmanian timbers and hand-worked glass and other artworks, there were hours of fun to be had.

Along the way, the topic of their wedding had come up. The time difference between them and London was proving unexpectedly convenient. Sending out messages - like Friday night's invites - yielded replies to which they woke. Elsie had asked Anna to do her hair, Beryl and Becky to be her attendants and so they were able to pick up some gifts for them which Charles pointed out would be proper. Further, Elsie anticipated asking a few others to deliver readings, so they picked out other gifts for those to-be-determined individuals.

Strolling, the cobblestone streets they found multiple, delightful, independently owned cafés and had a hard time picking just one for luncheon. That afternoon, they took a walking tour to see the quaint city's sandstone and waterways, and before the office closed for the weekend, they picked up the hire car Charles had booked. Throughout the day, they had asked locals for recommendations of a pub with live music and The Brick Factory kept coming up. Charles liked the architectural connection and they both had felt like dancing.

That brought the wedding to mind in another regard. A Monday morning ceremony and breakfast didn't lend themselves to dancing but both realized there would need to be music selected. Oh so much to do - so little time!

Charles emphasized his desire for a short honeymoon getaway. Elsie fretted over more missed work after the current extended one. Their compromise was booking a room at the same hotel they'd stayed at for Gwen's wedding in Scarborough Thursday to Sunday following the wedding.

On Sunday, they drove north on the A3 Tasman Highway to Freycinet National Park. There they were treated to the picturesque Wineglass and Great Oyster Bays that afforded rugged-to-easy hiking, relaxing swimming in secluded inlets and birding at wetland sanctuary lagoons, all surrounded by the spectacular pink granite Hazards Range. Before truly getting on the road back to Hobart, they enjoyed an ultra-casual dinner outdoors at a roadside oyster shack.

All the fresh air coupled with exercise and at last an opportunity to be lazy prompted them to both sleep in.

9:26 am

Elsie woke first yet was content to continue lying in bed. Turning on her side away from Charles, she reached for her reading glasses and the Australian travel guide. She found the write up about MONA where they were planning to go today.

The largest private museum in all Australia, collector David Walsh - who earned his fortune as a professional gambler - bought the property in the 1990s, revamped and expanded the site in 2011. The exterior architecture itself was impressive, but what Elsie read about the permanent collection and special exhibits was provocative to say the least. "Raises eyebrows and sometimes even turns stomachs" was what one review said.

By now, she heard Charles starting to stir and she smiled when she felt his left arm snake over her side and his lips caress her bare shoulder.

"Good morning, wife," he blew into her ear before kissing her jaw as well.

"Fiancée, Charlie. Fiancée."

"Details," he kissed her shoulder once more before resting his wiry chin against it, asking, "What are you up to anyway?"

"Reading up on today's destination. Sounds a little risqué."

"And if it is?"

Elsie shrugged in reply. "And if it is, we come back here and make like rabbits."

Charles chuckled. "No wonder I love you." He deposited a trail of kisses up her collarbone then and as his lips reached her neck he breathed in the scent of her auburn locks. And he ghosted the fingers of his left hand lower on her belly, around her belly button and lower still, tucking them under the waistband of her knickers. "If it's a rabbit the lady wants, it's a rabbit she gets," Charles teased. Elsie had gotten a full Brazilian wax before they'd left London in anticipation of wearing her string bikini and he loved how she felt down there as a result, still warm but oh so smooth, and certainly moist according to his index finger now.

"Charlie, do we have time for this?"

"We're on holiday, we bloody well better have time for this."

"I mean the car. Don't we have to return the hire?"

"Fuck the hire," he said as he separated her folds and rubbed her hard nub, fueling mutual desire. They may be going to MONA later, but he was making Elsie moan now! She turned her head to meet his lips with hers before grinding into his hand.

Travel guide falling to the floor, she turned her body fully toward him then. He lifted her reading glasses off her nose and set them safely on the bedside table before she straddled his torso. As time unfolded, so too did sheets and bedclothes until there wasn't a stitch of on either of them, nor daylight between them.


	120. Chapter 120: Dingoes

Thursday, 10 January 2019

7:00 am AWST

The end of Elsie and Charles' two week holiday Down Under was fast approaching. They had enjoyed Tasmania similarly yet for different reasons than Sydney. Tuesday evening, they'd made their way to Perth via Melbourne. After collecting their luggage and a taxi at the airport, they'd arrived at their hotel just after 10 pm, or 1 am according to their body clocks.

After their modern, stand-alone MONA pavilion (with shared sauna and infinity pool), they'd expected a let down. But their room in Perth was unacceptable to Charles, to the point that he had insisted on returning to the front desk soon after they had unlocked their door. Told there were no other rooms available at that point, Elsie convinced him they could make do. But the soft mattress and poor excuse for a breakfast buffet on Wednesday morning layered on had convinced them both by then that a Plan B was in order.

They had been able to check out by 11 without incurring a penalty for an early departure and so huddled together over Charles' laptop in a nearby café, they sought a quick alternative. Merging the best of what they'd enjoyed in Sydney and Hobart, they concentrated on finding somewhere private near the water. For some reason, Charles was adamant about going toward the coast, Elsie wanted another sort of unique experience, prompting them to settle on an AirBnB in Cottesloe. They had killed time with an architectural walking tour of Perth until they were able to check in yesterday after 4 pm. Salvation was found in the bottle of wine courtesy of their hosts and the outdoor jacuzzi where they watched the sunset that had closed out their second evening in Western Australia.

Back in London, Beryl was fretting over Elsie's request to cater the wedding breakfast. She was concerned about holding up her – and Charles' standards – and yet be Elsie's attendant just beforehand. Bill was confident Charles and Elsie would understand, especially if she let them know soon. She decided to do one better, reaching out to Phyllis to brainstorm ideas. Phyllis had one indeed: Joe's colleague James Dawes' wife owned a restaurant in Battersea, near the Church of Saints Mary and Matthew. She called and confirmed they could host a private breakfast on 4 February for about 40. Beryl wrote to Elsie about the possibility, apologetically, for the predicament and interrupting her holiday.

 _Nothing I want to do more…but I'm afraid I can't._

 _I WILL make the wedding favours, however. That I insist on – have the PERFECT idea!_

 _My dear Beryl, better to have you at my side at the altar than serving me eggs! Charlie says you may make mini pink lamington pairs, but no trouser snakes!_

 _What a relief! Phyllis has found this alternative, nearby, could work better for everyone – no cleanup on our shoulders. Called The Schoolhouse._

 _Pricing sounds reasonable, and we're happy to pick it up. What do you think?_

Y _ou WILL NOT pay for this – Charlie says so (and again, no trouser snakes –you have a filthy reputation!)!_

 _Oh bugger off, Charlie! You - we are at least hosting your HEN PARTY! Cluck! Cluck! G'night, some of us have to go to work tomorrow! Hope the holiday is grand. Can't wait to see photos – the scenery, not you two curled up in your Aussie love nests!_

"Beryl wants to host a Hen Party for me!"

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Charlie, do you realize what all we have to do between now and the wedding?"

"You're the one that wanted it this Lunar Year. Do you want to postpone?"

Elsie sighed, "No."

"Good."

Still, they had Becky's Gallery Opening later this month. Charles assured her that was all well in hand and reminded her they were on holiday, no need to stress. Rather, they would enjoy the sunshine, a good book and an empty day ahead.

To rest their eyes and stretch their legs, they'd strolled to the market together, hand in hand like a couple of locals. Elsie asked if they might dine in tonight. He had a booking of some sort for tomorrow evening – her birthday, and their last night in Australia – but with all the eating out they'd already done on this trip and "no Sex" (smoothies), meant Elsie was feeling like she'd gained a stone.

Back from the market and before Charles set about their dinner preparations, they napped together on the hammock in the shade of the banksia trees on the property.


	121. Chapter 121: Mad Dogs and Englishmen

Friday, 11 January 2019

Elsie was also fretting a bit about the effects of jet lag on their return. It wasn't bad on their way to Sydney, but somehow the eight hour time difference between Perth and London might be tougher to navigate, particular by arriving home in the wee hours of the morning. To help them acclimate, Elsie had advocated that they stay up extra late these last days in Perth, and sleep in as long as possible.

12:00 am

The timer on Charles' mobile rang beside their Scrabble board, announcing the arrival of 11 January. He canceled the alarm and then reached under the table as he flashed his boyish grin, "Happy Birthday, sweetheart."

So that's why he'd set the alarm, she realized. "Thank you, Charlie." He stood up and came over to her side of the table, leaning down to kiss her lips tenderly before handing her an envelope.

"I'm going to spread your gifts throughout the day - "

"Charlie, there's no need for gifts. My goodness, the expense of this whole trip, our wedding."

"Nonsense. There are gifts, but just this for now." He'd made the card himself. On the cover, he'd mimicked her stick figure drawing of him, including the eyebrows and big grin, though in his version his eyes were open, and there was a big red heart where she had drawn genitals. Below, it said,

YOU MAKE ME HAPPY

She laughed as she opened the card and then quieted, overcome the further she read.

"Elsie, love,

Really, you made me so very happy! Even happier now that you're going to become my wife – in just 25 days! Even before you'd said yes, I'd heard this classic on the sound system in the market – it made me think of you, Elsie, because…

YOU MAKE ME HAPPY*

 _I'd spend my whole life with you.  
'Cause you came and you took control,  
You touched my very soul.  
You always showed me that  
Loving you was where it's at.  
You made me so very happy,  
I'm so glad you came into my life._

 _I love you so much, it seems  
That you're even in my dreams.  
I hear you calling me.  
I'm so in love with you,  
All I ever want to do is  
Thank you, baby._

 _You made me so very happy,  
I'm so glad you came into my life.  
You made me so very happy,  
I'm so glad you came into my life._

 _Happy birthday, my dearest Elsie._

 _Love, Charlie"_

"You dear man, you. Tapadh leibh, mo ghaol."

"I love it when you speak Scottish, Elsie, even if I haven't a clue what you're saying."

1:45 am

As Elsie stared at her tiles, yawning, Charles contemplated his, including the one he'd just grabbed. "Elsie love, I think it might be time for your first birthday gift."

"Hmmm?"

He stood up then, lifted her up and carried her to bed, leaving behind the tile rack that fortuitously spelled out SHAG HER.

10:50 am

Elsie had woken to an empty bed and the smell of bacon. She'd only had time to quickly slip her nightdress back on and plait her hair before he was carrying in a breakfast tray, loaded with pancakes, juice, said bacon, warm syrup, hot tea, a flower in a bud vase and a small wrapped package.

Once they'd finished eating, he'd insisted, "Here, open this now."

She unwrapped a small picture frame that he'd taped another small drawing to. This one depicted two ears with green round earrings. Charles explained that there were bits left over from Mr. Fellowes re-cutting the Peridot for her engagement ring and when they returned to London, they would go to Brounker Road and pick a setting for them. Finally, Charles instructed Elsie to peel back the tape and reveal what was underneath. "Charlie, it's too much. I'm not a wee lass anymore."

"Just open it." She loosened the tape and lifted the corner of the card until the whole front of the frame was revealed.

"Charles Carson! I can't believe you!"

"You should talk! It's his and hers, Elsie, a matched set."

"I'll say. Goodness. Is this supposed to go –"

"Beside its pair." She just shook her head. He'd drawn a stick figure of her nude form asleep, the companion to the one she'd gifted him in August.

He'd encouraged her to take her shower as he cleaned up the kitchen. When she came out, dressed in the white terry dressing gown, toweling off her hair, he was gone, a note left on the counter,

 _Another surprise awaits! Put your swimsuit on under something sporty. I've already packed towels and sunscreen, I'll be back around noon._

12:10 pm

He bounded back into the AirBnB whistling YOU MAKE ME HAPPY. "Oh, perfect. Don't you look adorable?" He kissed Elsie's cheek as he continued on to the en suite where he grabbed her beach bag. "You may want to put some of this on. The sun's pretty high right now."

"Where are we going, Charlie?"

"Stand-up paddle-boarding!"

"Are you mad?" she asked incredulously.

He ushered her outside, lugging the beach bag on his shoulder. "You've never done before, have you? Remember the birthday rule."

It was a riotous couple of hours they spent with an instructor and four others on the Swan River near Peppermint Grove attempting to stay above water more than under. At 2:30, they were finished with paddle-boarding and ate a lite luncheon…before Charles revealed yet another surprise, one that Alice had helped orchestrate in her now-famous letter to Elsie. For he had hired a tandem bicycle on which they would continue clockwise all around the River over the remainder of the afternoon: past Crawley and the University, Bontanic Garden, Perth Zoo and South Perth, over to Applecross, Freemantle and back to Cottesloe.

Near the Botanic Garden, their banter was interrupted by Elsie's mobile ringing with Becky's ringtone. They stopped and Charles handed Elsie her mobile.

"Happy birthday, Elsie!"

Elsie looked at Charles, a smile emerging on her lips.

"Do you know you're eight in dog years?"

"Gee, thanks, Becks. That makes me feel younger."

"Is Charlie there?"

"Aye, right here."

"How do you like your birthday gifts?"

"Which one," she chuckled.

"The earrings. Charlie told me about them. Are they pretty?"

Elsie shook her head, he'd clued Becky in at some point. "Hi, Petal. I gave Elsie drawings of some earrings for now. Remember, the jeweler will have to make them when we get back."

"When are you coming back?"

"Early on Sunday. We miss you and can't wait to see you." Charles nodded. "Maybe after we have a chance to drop our things off at Charlie's we can come by."

"Please, Elsie, please?"

"I'm sure we can, Becky. Why don't we plan on that."

That evening, the last bit Charles had planned for Elsie's birthday was dinner, down the coast in Freemantle. At a cute bar, with live music where they danced the night away, including to a special request, YOU MAKE ME HAPPY.

*Songwriters: Berry Gordy Jr / Brenda Holloway / Frank Wilson / Patrice Holloway


	122. Chapter 122: Homeward Bound

Saturday, 12 January 2019

1:45 am

"My legs are killing me," Charles remarked when they finally returned home.

"You remember what Susan had said when you fell in the drink that one time later in our lesson and complained about how your legs ached?" Elsie cleared her throat and then in her best attempt at an Aussie accent, "Pain is weakness _leaving the body!_ " And then she'd snorted, at how ridiculous the notion was.

"Weakness, my arse!"

"Yeah, your arse is anything but weak, Mr. Carson," she patted it now as he walked past to open the patio slider. "If it makes you feel any better, my feet are killing me. Why did I fall in love with someone who loves high heels?"

"Let's get in the Jacuzzi again, ease _all_ our aches and pains."

2:10 am

They had both indulged more than usual between turns on the dance floor over the last several hours and that became terribly obvious when Charles pulled off his trunks underwater and blindly tossed them over his shoulder, whacking the siding and rendering them both in a fit of giggles. He was still chuckling when he put his arm around Elsie's shoulders declaring seductively, "I love you, my Scottish Dragon," before pulling her into a deep, wanton kiss that she returned, gladly.

As they continued to kiss, his fingers roamed her body until they found the string on her bikini bottom and began untying it. "Charlie," she murmured against his lips.

"You have 200% more clothing on than I do at present; let me help you take them off." She lifted her weight off her bottom and allowed Charles to pull the fabric that was little more than a flimsy nappy at this point from between her legs. He made a game of standing to toss it in the general direction of his trunks as if he were shooting a basketball. In the moment his groin was above the water, she instantly desired _him_ between her legs.

Sinking down and slinking toward her with eyebrows raised, Charles remove her bikini top that soon joined their other garments somewhere in the darkness. She climbed up straddling his legs, his now rigid tip rubbing against her lower belly each time she leaned in for a kiss of her own. He fondled her breasts and whispered endearments between nips at her ear as both their desires intensified. When Charles reached down between them, Elsie stopped him. "We can't, _here_. We'll – you'll – contaminate the water."

The frustration on his face was obvious, even in the moonlight, until he scooted out from under her and stood, erect in more ways than one. Unceremoniously, he climbed over the side of the Jacuzzi and held his arms out encouraging her to follow. As she hopped down on the tiles, Charles held her by the waist. "Give me your towel, Elsie," she fumbled and handed it to him, expecting he would help dry her off. Instead, he stepped over to the hammock and spread the towel across its middle, before sitting himself down. As he did a moment ago, he held his arm out, beckoning her.

In the darkness, Elsie wondered aloud if her eyes were playing tricks on her, "I can't believe I'm seeing this right. Who are you and what have you done with my fiancé?" But she stepped closer nonetheless as Charles anchored his heels and began gently rocking the hammock. "On a hammock? Outdoors?"

He simply nodded, "Let's live a little, when will we ever have the chance again?"

2:45 am

Fully spent and sated and back inside for the night, they were just settling into bed, Elsie having planted a kiss to his shoulder before nestling her head at the base of his neck. "Charlie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Perhaps we should invest in a Jacuzzi and hammock for the Brighton cottage."

Eyes closed, he yawned before asking, "What happened to our spending too much?"

"We'll have a chance to save up again before the summer comes." He just chuckled and pulled her closer.

9:00 pm

All this and more was going through Elsie's mind 18 hours later on their return flight. They'd agreed to once again try to stay awake as long as possible, and to make the most use of the time. Charles was scribbling notes, a combination of to-dos in the days ahead, notes for their wedding programme and his vows, which they'd agreed to customize.

Elsie, meanwhile, was considering wedding songs. She kept coming back to one she'd swooned over years ago, soon after she'd first arrived in London. It had caught her ear in an instant and lifted her spirits after Aaron's death, giving her confidence to move forward.

She found the lyrics now via Charles' laptop and browser. After refamiliarizing herself with them she thought yes, this is it. "Charlie, read this please."

He took the laptop from her.

LOVE CHANGES EVERYTHING*

 _Love, love changes everything  
Hands and faces, earth and sky  
Love, love changes everything  
How you live and how you die  
Love, can make the summer fly  
Or a night seem like a lifetime  
Yes love, love changes everything  
Now I tremble at your name  
Nothing in the world will ever be the same _

_Love, love changes everything  
Days are longer, words mean more  
Love, love changes everything  
Pain is deeper than before  
Love will turn your world around  
And that world will last forever  
Yes love, love changes everything  
Brings you glory, brings you shame  
Nothing in the world will ever be the same _

_Off into the world we go  
Planning futures, shaping years  
Love bursts in and suddenly all our wisdom disappears  
Love makes fools of everyone  
All the rules we made are broken  
Yes love, love changes everyone  
Live or perish in its flame  
Love will never never let you be the same  
Love will never never let you be the same_

"I remember this. It's lovely, and pretty much says it all."

"I want to play it at our wedding. I thought perhaps the first stanza could be for the processional, the second would accompany me down the aisle – toward you, my love. And then the third stanza could be for the recessional."

"Seems perfect."

"Only, it gets a little tricky, if the processional or recessional themselves require longer than the playing time."

"Well, there's a way around that. We could have a pianist perform it live."

"But I love the lyrics."

"Yes, of course. Pianist with a soloist."

"Another expense, Charlie."

"Not necessarily. There are a pianist and singer amongst our guests."

"Who?"

"Edith, and Mary Talbot."

"But Mary's just had a baby, and when are they moving to Manchester?"

"Well, they've accepted the wedding invitation. We just have to ask, we can do so when we bring the gifts for the children. What do you think?"

"Are they any good?"

"Indeed, Edith's played since childhood and I've heard Mary sing at past Christmas parties and such, at the building."

*Songwriters: Andrew Lloyd-Webber / Charles Hart / Don Black

Love Changes Everything lyrics © The Bicycle Music Company


	123. Chapter 123: The Dog Ate My Homework

Sunday, 13 January 2019

As promised, Charles and Elsie had first visited Becky after they'd unpacked at home. Becky was thrilled with the UGGS they'd bought in Australia for her, though Elsie knew she'd have been equally as pleased with knockoffs. Charles reminded Elsie it was important to buy genuine.

1:00 pm GMT

Much to Elsie's chagrin, the time had come to pick up Igor from Sybil and Tom's. Before heading over, Charles had texted Sybil who wrote that Tom was home.

Tom opened the door to them after they rang the bell, "G'day, mates! Welcome home. It looks like Australia agreed with you both."

"Absolutely, and how are things here?"

"Well, they could be better. Come in, I'll tell you about it. Perhaps some tea to start?"

As Tom hung their coats, Elsie dug into her shoulder bag, "We've brought a gift for Sybbie." It was Miroslav Šašek's 1970, THIS IS AUSTRALIA, one of his illustrated children's classics.

"Ah, thank you. She'll love it. But she's not here right now, she's at a classmate's birthday party."

"Good for her, too bad for us."

"Yes, I'm afraid it's not the only thing _too bad_. Come sit down."

At the Branson kitchen table Tom explained there'd been a couple of unfortunate events whilst they were away. He pointed to the basket with Sybbie's toy dogs as evidence of the first. "Violet" and "Isis" were upright, "Igor" upside down, intentionally, Tom explained. He went on to describe in not-so-graphic detail that Igor had gotten into the rabbit hutch and broken Biscuit's neck.

"Oh, mercy, Tom! That's terrible! I'm _so_ sorry."

While Tom and Sybil felt horribly, they recognized it was one way for Sybbie to learn about responsibility. It was she who had been in and out of the hutch as part of a school assignment and had carelessly not locked the hutch properly. Igor had been able to force his way in and kill the rabbit.

"How is Sybbie?"

"Well, she was distraught, to the point where we asked Robert to come and take Igor out to Hampshire until you returned."

"Understandable, but…he's right _there_ ," Charles pointed to the back door.

"Yes, and Isis too. Which brings me to the other bit of bad news. Marmaduke suffered a stroke earlier this week. Robert and Cora came straight in to be with Rosamund. It doesn't look good. In fact, he's been transferred to Sybil's hospice. They're all there now."


	124. Chapter 124: Dog Gone

Monday, 14 January 2019

Assured there was nothing they could do in regard to the situation with Marmaduke, they'd brought a penitent Igor back to Charles' right after their visit with Tom.

Later, they'd delivered the gifts they'd brought from Australia for the Talbot lads – a boomerang for George and a cuddly Joey for baby James. Whilst downstairs at the Talbot flat, Charles had also asked Mary if she might sing at their wedding ceremony; Mary agreed in an instant and approved thoroughly of Elsie's choice of song.

7:10 am

They'd woken some time ago but had stayed in bed.

"Charlie, I need to speak with you about something important," she finally acknowledged.

"Go on."

"It's about Igor. You know I have him out of others' concerns for my safety." He did. "I wouldn't choose to have him for any other reason."

"What are you getting at?"

Elsie turned to him, "He's a beast! He sheds, he drools, he smells, he makes smells, he needs out regularly in all kinds of weather, and now he's a killer."

"That was instinct."

"Would you be so accepting if he had attacked Sybbie instead of Biscuit? I didn't think so. I don't trust him, Charlie, and I'd be happier without him. Besides, I have someone else now to keep me safe – you! I want to find Igor another home."

"Are you saying you're trading the dog for me?"

"Far from it, though I'm sure there will be days when you'll find yourself _in the dog house_. No, Igor just needs to be somewhere he can run and his instincts are not a danger."

"You have somewhere in mind."

"Aye." Charles' mobile rang then; it was Robert calling.

Charles noted the time as he reached for it, "This isn't going to be good. Ham?"

"On, welcome home. I'm sorry there's not more enthusiasm in my voice."

"I understand, Tom told us about Marmaduke yesterday."

"Ah, well, the old bloke died, about 90 minutes ago."

"Damn, we're so sorry." With that, Elsie knew the outcome. "How's Rosamund?"

"Beside herself, but she wants you to read at the funeral, be a pallbearer. It will probably be Thursday. We'll know more later today."

"Of course, I'd be honoured."

"Good. Thank you. I have some more calls to place."

"Understood, give her our best."

"Thanks." Charles disconnected the call and put his mobile down.

"Marmaduke, he's died."

"So I gathered. What's the honour?"

"To read at the funeral."

"Oh." Remembering Sydney then, Elsie wondered, "Do you think you'll need a distraction?"


	125. Chapter 125: Marmaduke

Thursday, 17 January 2018

7:35 am

Elsie was standing in the en suite, applying mascara whilst calling out, "Charlie, you do know what all you need to do today, yes?"

In pyjama bottoms and vest, multiple neckties in hand, he stepped out of the walk-in closet. "I do. Hmmm, I like how that sounds. ' _I do._ ' Getting in a little practice for the big day," he noted proudly. She just rolled her eyes, focused just on today. "Right then, yes, get myself dressed first off. What tie do you think for later?" He fannedthem out for her consideration.

Elsie turned and looked at the options. "You're wearing your grey suit, you say?"

"Yes."

"Navy with the white polka dots. Simple, dignified, not too much an attention getter."

"Thank you. That's settled. Get myself dressed, walk Igor –" by then he was reading off his mobile, the list being so long "— send in our menu selections for the reception, haircut with Anna at 10:00, a bite to eat, another walk, dress for the funeral, bring along my script, pick up Becky, church, cemetery, Rosamund's afterward for tea, back to Becky's to pick up her things and then…pick up my bride. Have I forgotten anything?"

"Well done, Mr. Carson. No, I don't think you've forgotten anything, just remember to check Becky's valise to make sure she has packed her medicines, toiletries, two changes of clothes including something decent for tomorrow night, her nightdress and two pair of clean knickers, of course. What? Don't make a face!"

"Sorry, I don't feel right looking through her…underthings."

"Why not? You're in mine _all the time_. Besides, you'll find hers less risqué."

"Okay, okay, TMI." He held his hands up to his ears. "I'll find out soon enough it seems."

"Yes, you will. And you best get accustomed to it, she'll be your sister-in-law soon, and all that entails."

Elsie stepped toward Charles putting her arms around his neck as he wrapped his around her waist, pulling her nearer. "Happy to have her as my sister-in-law, because that means you're my wife," he pecked her lips.

"Yes, that's right, husband. I'm sorry I can't go today. After being away for two weeks it's just too –"

"No worries, Elsie. I'd love to have you by my side, always, but they all understand, I understand, and it's a nice gesture for Becky to come in your place."

"Aye. Well, good luck with it all. I best be going."

"Don't forget your smoothie, it's on the counter."

2:12 pm

As Charles made to stand from the pew, Becky squeezed his knee encouragingly. Silently, he squeezed her shoulder in return before easing himself past Violet who was at their feet. He stepped to the podium beside the casket, clearing his throat.

"As a veteran of Her Majesty's Armed Forces, Marmaduke had reverence for his fellow service members, past and present. He was also _my_ fellow student of history. That is probably why Rosamund asked me to read the following, one of Marmaduke's favourites. It is an excerpt from the poem written by Robert Laurence Binyon during his own service during the Great War.

FOR THE FALLEN

 _They fell with their faces to the foe._

 _They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:_

 _Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn._

 _At the going down of the sun and in the morning_

 _We will remember them."_

3:35 pm

Charles, Becky and Violet had stood behind the family's chairs for the graveside ceremony that closed with the skirling of a lone bagpiper as Marmaduke's casket was lowered into the ground. They were riding now, along with Edith, Marigold, Tom, Sybil and Sybbie, in the second of two limousines hired to transport the family to Rosamund's. At the cemetery had been the first time the lasses had ever heard a bagpipe played and they found it kind of funny. Recollecting the bagpiper himself, Sybbie giggled to Marigold, "And the man wore a skirt!"

"It's called a kilt, Sybbie and more than bagpipers wear them. Most Scotsmen do - and some others, too - for special occasions," Tom explained.

"That's right. Just before Christmas, Becky received the pin that had belonged to her and Elsie's brother, Aaron, for his kilt."

"You have a brother?"

"Had a brother. He died, like your Uncle Duke."

It was all news to Sybbie and the broader afternoon a little overwhelming to her, so Sybil quickly changed the subject.

Walking up the steps to Rosamund's townhouse, Becky was leaning on Charles on one side whilst Violet led on the other. "Charlie?"

"Yes, Becky?"

"Ever since we were talking about the bagpiper in the car, I've been thinking. Do you have a kilt?"

"No, I don't."

"Would you ever wear one, for a special occasion, like Tom said?"

"Elsie asked me nearly the same question a few weeks ago. No, I would not, Becky, because you don't want to see my knees," he joked.

"But Elsie says you have nice knees."

"Regardless, no kilt."

"Not even for your wedding?"

" _Especially_ not for my wedding!"


	126. Chapter 126: Westminster Dog Show

Friday, 18 January 2019

Joe Burns, whom Elsie had invited to the wedding, had accepted and called to offer his congratulations this week on behalf of him and his husband, Dane.

Whilst Charles had methodically reached out to the Masons and Dr. Parker to enlist their help to find Igor's next home, Elsie had simply come out and asked Joe if he'd be interested in taking Igor.

"He's sure? You know, I want Igor to go to a good home," Charles clarified.

"Aye, he is, thrilled in fact. And it will be, one with plenty of rabbits and other wildlife that Joe wants off the land no less, even if he doesn't farm it any more." Joe and Dane would bring Igor back to Argyll after the wedding breakfast. Charles was impressed with Elsie's research-based problem solving.

Then again, there was more to be impressed about in that realm. Igor wasn't the only one about to get a new home as a result of that little conversation.

When Elsie had asked how Clifford's new flat was working out, Joe admitted not well. And so they had also navigated and negotiated their way through a deal whereby Joe would rent Elsie's house for Clifford and up to three of his mates, all of whom Elsie would have the chance to screen before they moved in. They would all pay their individual parts of the rent to Joe, but Joe would be the one paying Elsie – Carson - on a monthly basis to make sure there were no shortfalls. It would be a one-year arrangement. To that end, this morning into the early afternoon had been spent boxing up Elsie's belongings. Clothes, files and very personal effects would be moving to Charles'. Other things would be donated, a few things discarded but bits like shovels, rakes and most furniture that Elsie would no longer have a need for would be left behind.

Elsie had insisted that Becky be there because much in the guest room belonged to her. And tonight was _all_ about Becky.

6:15 pm

"Becky, look at all your drawings, love!" Elsie exclaimed as they exited the South Bank Tower courtesy vehicle outside the art gallery in Westminster.

"Shhh, Elsie, remember, tonight, I am Heather Carson!"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Carson. Yes, Heather, look at all your drawings! Charlie, don't they look grand?" He was the last one out of the vehicle and beamed as well at what he could see through the glass storefront.

"They do, but they'll be even grander inside. Let's go in!"

There was a cloakroom and checker, bar being set up, servers assembling, and artwork all around – Becky's (Heather's) drawings, photo collages, wood sculptures, printed abstracts and beaded glasswork all by artists with disabilities. The program did not describe any of their physical or mental _disabilities_ , rather it celebrated their artistic _abilities_.

7:00 pm

"Ham, Cora, Maggie, so glad you could make it," Charles welcomed them all.

"We're glad to be here, it's wonderful to have an uplifting event such as this one to pick us all up after the heartbreak of losing Marmaduke this week."

"How is Rosamund?"

"She sends her regrets. We'll be with her yet tomorrow morning and then head home. Where is, 'Heather'?"

"Over yonder with Elsie. Go say hello, they'll be thrilled to see you. I'm to continue to greet guests so you'll have to excuse me for now."

"Of course, you're doing a fine job, you old bloke!"

Charles welcomed many friends that he had gained entirely or in new lights over the last 11 months. There were the Masons and Molesleys, Bateses, Simon Bricker and Thomas Barrow. Isobel Crawley and Richard Clarkson were there too. All excited for a festive reason to come together and for this evening even more given that it was, for most, the first time they'd seen Charles or Elsie since his Christmas proposal.

7:45 pm

The sound of clinking glass captured everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, gather round if you would, please." It was Simon Bricker, standing on the third stair-high landing of the staircase that led up to the upstairs gallery.

"I'd like to welcome you to this evening's opening gala of work by five talented artists - who don't know they're artists!" There was laughter all around. "But they are artists, in every sense of the word, creating work of the highest artistic merit in different mediums. By being here tonight, you join us all in the art world by recognizing that art by artists with disabilities brings value to society. Works by such artists have been sold by Christie's and other auction houses in cities around the world; it is in permanent collections at world-class museums such as the Guggenheim in New York. And tonight, here in London, it is in our midst, and could be in your own homes for the right prices! Look around you, artists, let the presence of those who are here bring you pride in your work and recognition that it is worthy - of being bought and perhaps reproduced. I am so pleased to see the assembly of your work and congratulate you. For the patrons in the crowd, dig deeply in your pockets, this work is exceptional. Thank you, thank you all, enjoy the evening!"

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: This art exhibit is inspired by CREATIVE GROWTH of Oakland California, and a 15 December 2015 feature in the NYTIMES Sunday magazine.


	127. Chapter 127: Put to Sleep

Saturday, 19 January 2019

8:30 am

"We talked about it again after we went to bed last night, Becky. Charlie and I are so proud of you! The gallery opening was just…wonderful. And I know Aaron, Da and Mam would have been so proud too."

"Thanks, Elsie, it was fun." The Hughes sisters were on a quick market run for berries and milk having left Charles to prepare the ingredients for omelettes and soldiers when he was out of the shower. "Speaking of Mam, I saw you brought your jewellry box to Charlie's yesterday. Do you still have her wedding ring?"

"Of course, why?"

"Well, I was realizing last night wouldn't have happened without Charlie. As Cora said, I mightn't have been 'discovered' were it not for Charlie's charity cricket match when she first saw how I can draw."

"Aye, that's probably true, Heather," she smiled, "But what's that to do with Mam's ring?"

"Well, just how Charlie had your rings made from his and his mam's. I thought it'd be nice if Charlie's ring was made from our mam's."

Elsie was touched by the unexpected sentiment. "That's a very sweet thought Becky, but you remember Mam was no bigger than a minute and her ring just a wisp. Why, it wouldn't begin to fit Charlie properly - and you know he likes things done properly!"

"I know! But I've thought about that too, Elsie. No one is ever going to wear Aaron's kilt pin properly, why not add the gold from it to Mam's ring to make a big ring for Charlie?"

Elsie stopped in her tracks, amazed and touched all the more by Becky's thoughtfulness. "Becky, I don't know what to say. That's one of the sweetest thoughts I can even imagine. But honestly, in all the commotion since Christmas, we haven't discussed whether Charlie even intends to wear a ring."

"Well, we best ask him. You're to be married in just over two weeks."

8:50 am

"Hello m'ladies! Hope you've brought back some appetites along with the milk and fruit!" Instead, Elsie looked like she'd seen a ghost. "What? What's wrong, Els?"

"Becky has something rather important to ask you," Elsie gestured for Becky to proceed.

Charles listened carefully, clarified that his intent was indeed to wear a ring and that yes, they needed to be getting one. But above all, "I would be honoured, Becky and Elsie, to wear a ring with ties to your mum and brother. Honoured." All three were blinking back tears.

"Well then, perhaps we should go see Mr. Fellowes this morning, before we try to sort my wedding outfit."

"I packed the kilt pin! We can go straight away!"

10:00 am

Fellowes and Elsie were delighted to meet one another and he to see how becoming Elsie's engagement ring looked on her. He presumed they came to select the settings for the leftover Peridots. Yes, they could do that too, but more importantly, Charles' ring. What's the rush, Fellowes wondered, unaware of the wedding date.

Charles emphasized he wanted a simple band, if that expedited things; it did help. But Fellowes saw something more between these two and used it to negotiate. A simple band wouldn't be a problem, he was offering to do it for free even, on two conditions: 1) if Elsie would hand model her own rings in advertisements for Brounker Road Jewelers, 2) if Fellowes could be invited to the wedding and wedding breakfast; he had helped countless couples on their big day but was hardly ever invited. Charles left it to Elsie to decide. She was fine with the former - after the wedding - and joked were it not for Fellowes work, she might not have said 'yes' to Charles' proposal. If he would kindly include a secret engraving on the inside of Charles' ring, they had a deal.

Charles excused himself whilst Elsie and Becky continued to sit with Fellowes about the engraving. He looked a bit pale when they met him outside. "Now that we've all the rings Charlie, don't tell me you're getting cold feet!"

His response was a half smile, accompanied by, "Figuratively, no, literally, yes."

"Are you not well, Charlie?"

"Feeling a bit achy, like I'm coming down with something."

Elsie felt his forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever, but tis the season. Best get home and rest."

"Whilst I'm out, I want to stop by John Bates' to see about a new tie for the wedding. Then I'll head home and rest if I'm not feeling better. You ladies have fun with your own shopping expedition."

It took all afternoon and a quick hair consult with Anna, but Elsie's wedding outfit had been found. She didn't want to wear white let alone something she'd never wear again; it didn't seem right to her as a first-time bride at age 56. She would, however, in addition to hiding a sixpence in her shoe, adhere to including something old, new, borrowed, and blue.

The old and blue were the easy parts. She intended to wear a simple dove grey dress as the base along with her sapphire pendant. After joining them for lunch, and experiencing Elsie reject all sorts of accessories in multiple shops, Beryl remembered a lovely embroidered long vest that Phyllis Molesley had made for herself - did Elsie remember it? She did and they called Phyllis who dropped everything to meet them along the way with said vest. It was perfect and with that, suddenly the "new" opportunity became clearer too: a stylish little fascinator from a milliner.

4:45 pm

It was pitch dark inside and out when Elsie returned home. She found Charles under the covers in his pyjamas and snoring soundly. She wasn't certain how long he'd been asleep but took Igor who was anxious to go out for a short walk. Only when she returned, Charles was no longer snoring but agitatedly declaring aloud in his sleep, "But we haven't any ushers!"

Having never heard him like this before, it concerned Elsie who switched on the bedside light which revealed Charles' sodden forehead beneath his errant curl. He was burning up with fever! "Charlie, love, wake up!" she shook him until he opened his eyes, looking at her, puzzled.

"Elsie?"

She retrieved a glass of water, damp cloth for his forehead and dry pyjama top that she helped him into. "Elsie, it was the strangest dream, yet all so real," he coughed. "I was dressed and with Ham before the wedding. Joe Molesley came in with four boutanierres, gave us each one and then pointed to the last two explaining, 'These are for your ushers.'"


	128. Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Sunday, 20 January 2019

Charles shivered his way through feverish chills as Saturday evening had wore on. At least rest had found him, though accompanied by a continuation of his dream, or so Elsie surmised from his occasional speaking aloud. Over time, she had pieced together that he continued to be preoccupied with the mystery wedding ushers.

"Remember, when you greet them ask, ' _Bride or groom?_ ' Bride's side sits on the left, groom on the right."

"Are your boots shined, lads?"

"Get her to the church on time!"

The ushers seemed to be working overtime, even at the reception, "We've been over this before; that's an egg spoon, not a teaspoon."

Whilst Charles' fever was no laughing matter, Elsie had found the commentary rather entertaining. She had considered adding hypnosis to her professional practice before; this was making her consider it again.

2:00 am

Suddenly, his fever broke. Elsie had been sleeping lightly beside Charles when he sat bolt upright, gasping for breath, waking her. Elsie wasn't sure if she needed to call for an ambulance he was breathing so hard. As she reached for her mobile he stopped her, "Elsie, it's just them, the ushers. I know who they are!" Charles was covered in sweat, his heart pounding and he was breathing heavily through his mouth but he was lovingly stroking her hand with his thumb, and he sounded lucid.

"They've been in my dream on and off, first just their boutanierres, but later dark-haired, pencil-thin adolescents in blue jackets and black trousers with matching blue stripes and the boutanierres on their chests."

"Charlie, it sounds like the Mulroney twins jumped from being Meghan Markle's pageboys to our ushers!"

"No, Elsie," he was adamant. "Eventually, I saw their faces and heard Beryl reminding them, ' _Don't let your mother's train drag on the steps, lads!_ ' Elsie, they weren't the Mulroney twins - they were **our** twins!" He began to sob, "Elsie they were such handsome lads, dressed in their finery, with my height and broad shoulders holding up miniature duplicates of your fair-skinned face with freckles, beautiful eyes, nose and smile! Our twins, Elsie, I dreamt we were parents together!"

They'd spoken of children during their first date, Charles having explained it was an impossibility for him and Alice then, and obviously an impossibility for them now.

Elsie thought she would have made a good mother, had plenty of practice with Aaron and Becky, William Mason, and most recently Jack Bates and had seen evidence of what a fine father Charles could have been in all the care and love he afforded Sybbie, in particular. Aside from the physical impossibility, it wasn't difficult to imagine the scenario he was describing.

Holding his face, Elsie kissed him once, twice, truthfully told him she loved him and would have loved to have been the mother of his children. Pulling his face to her breast, they both cried over what would never be more than a dream. Eventually, she wiped their tears and encouraged Charles that a change of pyjamas once again, and a change of the bedding, would be wise so that comfortable sleep could embrace them both.

As they drifted off, comfortable sleep did find them, ironically, both dreamt of a pair of Carson lads of their own creation; being birthed, nursed, and rocked, from cooing to cricket lessons, training wheels to cycling trophies, scraped elbows to broken hearts, midnight nappy changes to nine o'clock curfews - and everything in between.


	129. Chapter 129: Walking the Dog

Sunday, 20 January 2019

1:00 pm

This afternoon was Elsie's first Sunday training for the 2019 MoonWalk. Charles was assuredly feeling better, up for a walk even himself. Yet Elsie insisted he stay home, she didn't want whatever had ailed him to return. She hated to leave him but it was essential that she continue on as planned, after all, she wouldn't do anywhere near a long walk the day before the wedding, nor the Sunday following when she expected to lie tangled in bed with Charlie prior to life as Mr. and Mrs. Carson.

And so Elsie handed him an afghan her mam had made, tucked it around him, and kissed him goodbye for 90 minutes bringing Igor along with her.

With Elsie away, Charles concentrated on writing his vows. Yes, he'd agreed to writing their own, but it was pretty hard to top the succinct truth of:

With this ring, I thee wed.

With my body, I thee worship.

And all my earthly goods, I thee endow.

But then his mind wandered to what she was doing this very moment: walking the dog and from there he thought of the yo-yo trick by the same name and realized it was an apt metaphor for himself since meeting Elsie. His life prior had become a bit of a "sleeper" but then he made contact with Elsie – a well-grounded individual – and she propelled his life forward.

His outline flowed from there.


	130. Old Dogs, No Children & Watermelon Wine

Friday, 25 January 2019

6:00 pm

"Pick me up at noon, tomorrow. And please, don't judge me when you do."

Charles just chuckled. Hen Parties had a reputation for debauchery and with Beryl hosting Elsie's – of the sleepover variety – there was no reason to believe a new standard wouldn't be set. As far as what Elsie herself might do in the course of celebrating, well, she had certainly waited long enough to be the hen.

"Goodbye, Elsie, Becky, have a good time! I love you both!" He kissed both sisters before retreating down the Masons' front steps, waving goodbye as he climbed into the back seat of the South Bank Tower courtesy vehicle.

"What is Charlie doing tonight?"

"I've no idea but whatever it is it will be a whole lot more mature than what we're walking into. Just remember, keep your mind open and your lips shut." Uh-huh, Becky nodded whilst smirking; Beryl and Martha had made a point of preparing her for tonight's fun whereas Elsie was in the dark. And yet Elsie was quickly clued in as they walked in and saw the cake stands holding cupcakes decorated with individual white frosting "sperm" or flesh-coloured, anatomically-correct "vaginas."

"Oh Lord," Elsie sighed, "And thus no underage lasses at my Hen Party."

"She's here, everybody!" Beryl offered drinks, Elsie taking one of the pre-poured glasses and no sooner had it beneath her nose when she exclaimed incredulously to Beryl, "You didn't!"

"I did! Bottled it last summer when watermelons were in season and I just had a feeling about you and Charlie-boy! Haven't had a sip yet though, waiting for you to try it. Cheers Elsie – to a happy life as a happy wife!"

The two went on to explain to the others how for Beryl's Hen Party/ Baby Shower – when none of them had ANY money – Beryl and Elsie had served three bottles of watermelon wine they'd made months before, only it hadn't had enough time to properly ferment and tasted awful according to those who drank it. They'd never forgotten and Beryl pledged if and when Elsie ever got married, she would make watermelon wine again. This batch was pretty palatable.

Lavinia garnered their attention, "Okay, now that everyone's here we can start the games, and Elsie, there are lots of them! Everyone who is here has solely or in pairs contributed a game for tonight. Oh, I guess there is one trio, but regardless, in that spirit of being a happy wife, I am going to pass out the components for game number one. We are at Beryl's so of course one of the components is food!" Lavinia returned from the kitchen carrying a large tray of peeled cucumbers and courgettes. "Take one of either and a butter knife."

"Oh, this is a fun one!" noted Sybil, bouncing excitedly on her chair.

"Now, you each have 15 minutes to carve your vegetable into a penis! They already kind of look like penises, but see where you can push it!"

"Not literally!" Beryl clarified.

The room became quieter, aside from the occasional joke being cracked. Lavinia circled around, taking closeup photos of the sculptors in deep concentration. "Very good, ladies, very good. A nice range of sizes, cut and uncut. I wonder what Charlie is!"

Whilst she wasn't drinking, Sybil was nonetheless uninhibited tonight as she exclaimed, "Jumbo circumcised!" before she even knew anything was out of her mouth. She raised her cucumber and breadknife to her face covering up her embarrassment, nearly cutting her cheek.

"How would you know?!" Elsie and Cora asked at nearly the same time.

A beet red Sybil explained, "Well, there was this one summer when we were little that Uncle Carson and Aunt Alice babysat us for a few days and this one night had been really, really hot and, well, Edith and I went to their bedroom in the morning because we wanted to know how early the pool opened."

"And you caught them, in the act?" Cora asked, horrified.

"No, they were still asleep, but they were both naked and it was morning, and so, Uncle Carson was…obvious," she cleared her throat in embarrassment. "Sorry Aunt Elsie."

"That's alright dear, remember, the night is still young!"

Isobel was awarded the first prize of the night though Lavinia collected all the entries, photographing the lineup before turning all over to Beryl who explained that as the wine was finished off, the plan was to switch to G&Ts and the cucumbers would be cut up in them and could be sucked on. There were several "ewwws" from the crowd before Beryl explained all the courgettes would be fed into the food processor to be shredded (cheers) before being baked into loaves of bread as party favours so they could be swallowed (more cheers!).

Next, as dinner was about to be served, Daisy introduced her contribution: Sexy Scattergories. She passed out pencils and cards with gridlines to everyone. Across the top, there were 6 columns, the top row spelled out B-R-I-D-E, one letter per column to the right. In the first column, the following categories were listed:

Worn to a wedding  
Belongs in the bedroom  
Song about love or sex  
Sexy word  
Worn during sex  
Necessary trait in a spouse  
A way to show affection

Daisy instructed everyone to fill in as many cells as possible with answers that began with the letters above; she and Beryl would plate dinner. "But that means Beryl can't play!"

"Oh, she's already played – at the clinic – much to Doc Mason's chagrin. I needed a guinea pig!"

"Where is Bill anyway?"

"Upstairs in his office, hopefully with earphones on. He'll drop Martha back home later."

"Much later! I'm not going _anywhere_!"

Anna rushed in midway through dinner, apologizing for not being able to stay. John was ill and of course there was Jack to take care of. She wanted to partake even if just for a few minutes and was pleased to get there in time for Isobel's game, Drop Your Knickers.

All the party participants had brought a clean pair of their own knickers, dropped them in a basket and then as they were pulled out one by one, everyone had to guess whose was whose. Some based on size were more obvious than others, and everyone laughed at the mother-daughter resemblance of those from Cora and Sybil, except for Sybil who was embarrassed in a different way than earlier. Cora simply stated, "Darling, Donk likes thongs!"

Next was Martha, Phyllis and Becky's game, What's Under the Whites? "Elsie, I apologize in advance," Phyllis acknowledged while helping Becky unroll and tape up a life-size print of Charles in his cricket whites, bat under his arm; it had been taken during September's match at the Abbey only rather than in a standing posture, they were rolling it out horizontally also revealing red lip "kisses" all over and around his smiling face. Elsie questioned aloud whether they were doing it correctly. Martha assured her they were. "Now ladies, the question really is, what does Charlie have on under those cricket whites? Is it…" From a folder on her lap, Martha individually held up a series of four cards with printed stock photos. "A. Lycra? B. Boxers? C. Briefs?" There was hooting and hollering as each card was held up. "D. A jock strap?"

By now, Elsie was a little drunk herself and acknowledged, "Charlie will kill me for telling you all this but after the charity match, I found him flat on his back in the loo in nothing but his jock strap! I did, I really did!"

"And what'd you do about it, huh?"

"That's great, Elsie," Martha cut through the laughter. "Or is it…drumroll please…E. Nothing at all!?" With that, Phyllis returned her attention to the print and began rolling back the top "clothing" layer revealing behind it a line drawing of a naked Charles that Becky had traced to match his outline in the photo. Inch by inch as Phyllis rolled it back the ladies clapped, "Off! Off! Off!" Becky had added the hint of hair on his chest, belly, arms and legs and darker, thicker patches at his underarm and groin. "Only, ladies, you'll notice there are _a few things_ missing! We need your help to put Cheerful Charlie back together again!"

Martha opened the folder once more and passed to her right and left stylized male genitals cut from a range of flesh-toned construction paper. Elsie was mortified when Martha admitted one of the staff at Times of Endearment had bought the paper for her and other residents had helped design the pattern, trace it and cut out the 12 that were now circulating around the Mason living room.

"We'll never be able to walk in there again."

"Oh you can, but prepare Charlie for the whistles!"

As the game continued, each woman was blindfolded, spun around three times and, like Pin the Tail on the Donkey, tasked with pinning the genitals to Charles. Isobel won again for most accurate placement, Beryl commenting that for the second time tonight her knowledge of anatomy was an unfair advantage!

Beryl stood up then, "Seems we've a bit of a theme going on here tonight. The next game is what I call 'Twig and Berries – Carson-style!' Ladies, you're about to receive three balloons each, two round ones, one long. It is your job to blow them up and twist them together into 3D versions of Charlie's twig and berries! Accordingly, they should be _as_ _big_ as you can make them – but if they pop, you're out!" Adding to the fun of this game was that the balloons were in assorted colours. There were a few pops along the way, including Elsie's who then began to help Becky instead. The sister combo won the day, but all contestants, regardless of any popping, posed for photos "wearing" their twig and berry creations.

"Finally, ladies, Mama and I thought it would be fun to assemble a panel of contestants. Who would like to play, "How well do you know the bachelorette?" Four hands went up: Becky, Martha, Beryl and Phyllis. "Okay, there will be five questions, the panelists will write down their answers whilst Elsie thinks through hers. I'll have her say them aloud one by one. If you get one right, you get the corresponding points, but if you get it wrong, we'll subtract the same."

The contestants were lined up in four chairs, Cora and Isobel were to be the judges as far as whose answers were correct.

"For two points, name Elsie's favourite embellishment and colour of knickers." All got it right: blue with lace, thanks to the earlier Knickers game.

"For three points, "Other than her lips, what is Uncle Carson's favourite spot to kiss Elsie?"

"Does this include _down there_?" Beryl asked in all seriousness.

Everyone laughed after Elsie asked the same question! It was included, and therefore was Beryl's answer, but Phyllis got it right: behind the ear.

For four points, "What's the most orgasms Elsie's had in one _session_ with Uncle Carson?"

Elsie muttered, "And I thought Beryl would be the one to embarrass me the most tonight," before silently counting to herself, whilst nibbling on her lip.

"Elsie, what's your answer?"

Elsie's face turned red thanks to Scarborough, the hotel by the sea where they'd be returning for their honeymoon. "Well, I do pride myself on being organized. One point for every orgasm. Four!" The number earned some respect around the room.

"Alright, for eight points, what's the most unusual _locale_ where Elsie and Charlie have done _it_?" The contestants took a while to think this through before putting their pencils down.

Among the outlandish answers, Beryl had guessed, incorrectly, the sofa in Elsie's office adding, "It wouldn't be the first time!"

"Hey! Different boyfriend, different sofa and why it _won't_ happen again…even if Charlie's speculated about it!"

"So what's your answer, Elsie?"

She looked around the room and held her finger up in a stern warning to all. "The friendship – and yes, _even the sisterhood_ – is _over_ _as we know it **if** any _of you breaths a word of this outside this room – _ever_! Before two weeks ago my answer would have been different, but now I have to say, a hammock, outdoors!" Well, that one silenced the crowd and raised eyebrows; zero points awarded.

"Okay, final question, still anybody's game it seems. For ten points, who was Elsie's first shag?"

"Oh, shit, there were so many of them, I can't remember the order of her conquests!" Beryl cheeked, whilst Phyllis thought through the same, quietly. Meanwhile, Becky and Martha confidently wrote down their answers. When it was time to reveal the cards, Beryl looked to her right, and asked, " _Who the hell_ is Joe Burns?"

"The proverbial lad next door who she thought was gay!"

"Martha!"

"What? How many years was I your therapist listening to you retell _that_ story?"

"Aye, and what happened to patient-therapist confidentiality?"

Martha waved her off, "Ach, how many _decades_ have I been retired?"

"He's coming to the wedding – and he is gay! Though he fathered two children," Becky added, innocently.

"Is he?"

"Yes, Joe came out to me a few months ago before he introduced me to his adult son who became a client."

"I need another drink, pronto!" Beryl admitted. "In all the years, I _never_ heard you mention his name, not even once."

"Yes, well, it was complicated."

"Clearly."

"Is he really coming to the wedding?" Cora wondered.

"Yes, with his husband. And he _was_ my first. Here, he's in my Contacts now," Elsie handed Beryl her mobile.

"I'll be damned, handsome fella. Yep. Argyll, Scotland."

"Let me see," Martha reached for the mobile. Only she inadvertently touched Joe's number, dialing him as she went to adjust her glasses to better see his photo. "Hello? Who's this?" She held the phone up to her ear then, everyone believing she was pretending. "Joe? Joe who? Oh, Joe Burns, yes, we were just looking at your photo."

"Oh shit, give me that!" Elsie lunged for the device.

But Martha turned away, rendering it out of reach. "She's right here. Who am I? I'm Martha Levinson, Elsie's mentor and one-time therapist. We're at her Hen Party. You know she's getting married. Oh that's right, Elsie says you're coming to the wedding. You know, I don't think she's asked anyone else yet, but with as far back as you two go, she should ask you to walk her down the aisle!"

"Give me that!" This time Elsie snatched the mobile back and transferred it up to her ear. "Joe, I'm _so_ sorry. What time is it? Oh God, _so, so_ sorry."

"That's okay, Elsie. Sounds like things are a little out of hand there."

"Says the man who's been privy to only 15 seconds of my shame," a sobered up Elsie admitted.

Joe could hear the sarcasm in her voice. "Well, so long as you're okay."

"Yes, fine, I am so sorry my dearly soon-to-be departed mentor dialed you by mistake."

"Really, Elsie, it's okay. And for the record, I'd gladly walk you down the aisle. Take your da and Aaron's places – as best I can."

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: Looking back, there have been many YoTD chapters that were fun to write, and this is among the top! I wanted to be at the Hen Party myself! Hope you enjoyed it too. WHENEVER you are reading this, a little review would be welcome. What other games or treats would you have brought to the party?


	131. Chapter 131: Hair of the Dog

Saturday, 26 January 2019

11:58 am

Charles had returned to pick Elsie up as promised. The Mason living room was still in shambles: cupcakes, wall hangings, balloon sculptures all about...enough for him to raise his eyebrows – but not to ask about any of it. A none-too-chipper Beryl handed him Elsie's valise and a gift bag with a loaf of courgette bread on top telling him Bill had already dropped Becky and Violet back home and Elsie had taken one powder this morning, probably another one was in order by the time they returned home. "And _lots_ of water and rest."

Elsie was hung over and begged the driver from South Bank Tower to drive slowly and not make any sudden stops. Charles sat beside her, opened a water bottle for her but Elsie just sat there, head in her hands. "When we get home Charlie, if I don't die first."

She started shedding her clothing as soon as she was inside the flat, dropping pieces wherever they fell and crawling immediately into bed in just her knickers that were too much work to remove. When Charles sat down on the edge of the bed and ordered her to sit up, drink the water and take the powder in his hand, she asked him to shut the blinds.

She protested aloud as he nudged her shoulder until she sat up and grabbed the glass from him. Her breasts hung loose over the top sheet and duvet as she swallowed then griped, "I thought we were writing our own vows, none of that 'love, honour and _obey_ ' business."

"Yes, well, perhaps you can return the favour next week after my Stag Party."

"Hummph! You have a drinking advantage over me what with your body size. Let me lie down, Charlie, please."

4:00 pm

"Elsie, love, I looked up what to eat when you have a hangover. Number one is banana. I've brought one for you. Sit up and eat it for me, please."

Short of lifting her head off the pillow, Elsie looked at him through one open, bloodshot eye. "Could you cut it into slices? It would take too much energy to bite through."

Charles returned with a paring knife. He sat on the edge of the bed again and helped Elsie sit up some before slicing 1/4 inch off the banana and holding it in front of her mouth. When she opened, he tipped the banana in. She closed, chewed and swallowed, very deliberately, before they repeated the process until half the banana was gone at which point she waved him off. Charles handed her the water glass again and watched until she drained it.

"Elsie, you need to eat more. The list said that eggs are also good." She grimaced a clear "no."

"Then I should run to Little Waitrose, perhaps. Watermelon and cucumbers are next on the list."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all, high water content in both."

"No thank you."

"Is there anything you _will_ eat?"

"Toast, dry."

"You mean _warm bread_ the way you like it. Okay, that's close enough to water biscuits, number six on the list."

Under his watchful supervision, she slowly ate the slice of bread Charles "toasted." It hurt to bite and the slight crunching sound of her teeth as she chewed assaulted her ears. "That's my girl, well done, lass."

"Charlie, what I need more than anything is a shower."

"I don't know if you can stand up. A bath might be the safer option."

"I just need to wash my hair," she moaned as she wormed her hands through her unruly locks. Then looking up, she asked, "Would you wash my hair?"

"Of course."

4:30 pm

Reclined in the tub, eyes closed with water up to her shoulders and Charles seated on a chair behind massaging her scalp, Elsie hummed her pleasure. Slow tempo music played softly through her mobile on the floor beside the tub. Minutes later, Charles had rinsed out the shampoo, combed out and loosely plaited her hair and kissed her forehead as he stood up, intending to let her soak a while longer. She sighed, "Thank you, Charlie."

"You're entirely welcome love, I hope you feel better." He moved the chair to the corner thinking she might need it later.

"Join me." She extended her right arm then, above her head, beckoning him over with a curl of her index finger and wave of the wrist. "No funny business or fun stuff, just, join me." He grimaced, so torn he was. "Please?"

"No fun," he emphasized before kicking off his slippers and beginning to unzip his jeans. At the sound of his zipper she opened one eye, which made him chuckle; her eyes had been closed practically the whole time she'd been in the tub. He eased his long legs out one at a time and draped the jeans over the chair's backrest. Now, she had both eyes open, fixed on his figure. After removing his socks, he rewarded her with her own personal striptease as he made a production of unbuttoning and removing his shirt. In only his shorts then, he put his hands on his hips and swiveled them, seductively eliciting a small giggle. He stopped and looked at her in mock indignation, before breaking into a wide smile and then pulling his shorts down to his ankles.

As he stepped out of them and toward her, Elsie complimented him, "That's quite a nice courgette you have there, Mr. Carson." She sniggered. As he settled in behind her, he begged her to explain. She did one better, lifting her mobile off the floor and sharing the photos Lavinia had texted her from throughout last night, putting them in context for him, when it wasn't immediately clear.

Now it was his turn to grimace, "I liked that courgette bread when I ate some earlier, now, not so much."

"I'll finish it myself, if I must - at some point, that is."

In time, she dropped the mobile again and settled back against Charles and his courgette, his left forearm cradling her below both her breasts. She didn't want to move, but she needed to. "Charlie, I need to pee."

He helped her step out of the tub and watched as she toweled herself off then stated, "God, you're beautiful."

"I'm hung over."

"AND you're beautiful."

"Hold that thought for a moment."

She disappeared momentarily before returning to the safety and comfort of his embrace.

"So are you going to tell me anything about last night? Like what, other than ground up veg penis bread, is in the bag?"

"Your mistress's knickers."

"What?"

"Lingerie. They all gave me lingerie, some of it skankier than others."

"Can I see?"

"Not tonight, after the wedding, in Scarborough."

"Scarborough?! But that's -"

"Not so loud, Charlie," she winced, covering her ears.

"Sorry. Okay, I'll wait on the lingerie. Anything else I should know from last night?"

She turned then, so she could make eye contact, and told him about the call to Joe Burns and what he'd said. They were silent for a moment, before Elsie turned round, resting her back against Charles' chest again.

"I never would have guessed I'd be sitting in a bathtub with my hung over fiancée, speaking about her first shag whom, along with his husband, we have now invited to be a guest at our wedding."

She considered the statement. "You're the one who said it'll be a different life!"

"Understatement of a lifetime!" Charles lifted his chin and gently rested it on Elsie's head, "So, you're thinking about it, having Joe walk you down the aisle?"

"Aye."


	132. Chapter 132: Companionship

Sunday, 27 January 2019

8:14 am

Elsie woke up grateful to be feeling more alive than dead. She was also pleased to find Charles in bed beside her, reading his iPad with his glasses on which he was doing more and more. Somehow they made him look even more distinguished than he was naturally. "Good morning, love. How's my girl?"

"Feeling more like her regular self again."

"That's good, I like your regular self a whole lot." He set his glasses and tablet aside and shimmied down under the covers and over toward Elsie. When they were eye to eye, he smiled, adoringly, "Hello, Ms. Hughes. He pursed his lips and she scooted over and pecked them, a sure sign that she was indeed feeling herself.

"Hi, Mr. Carson. Are you as surprised and delighted as I am my dog isn't pestering for a walk?"

"That's because we're already done and back, whilst you were sleeping."

"Oh bless and thank you! But, you're in your pyjamas."

He pretended to peek under the duvet, "Actually, just my shorts and this t-shirt - which can be yours one day, if you're lucky!"

"A hand-me-down t-shirt, oh my, won't I be the envy of all?" she feigned.

He chuckled in response but that trickled off to nothingness as he looked into her eyes. "Really, I'm glad you're better. Do you think you're feeling up for doing something today?"

"Are you feeling up?" She reached over and touched the front of his shorts, warm and inviting but soft - for the moment, Elsie thought - as she rolled her bottom lip in between her teeth.

"Ms. Hughes, you can really have a one-track mind!"

"Me? What about you?"

Charles tilted his head back and rolled his eyes, "Oh don't tell me this is going to be our first fight; we aren't even married yet!"

"Seems a silly thing to be arguing about," she agreed. "So what do you want to do? Stay here and cuddle all day?" she hoped before remembering, "But I should walk."

Charles rolled over to look out the now open blinds, "It's been raining and there's high winds expected later, might be a narrow window between them."

"It's London, if we wait for decent weather, we'll be stuck in here until May."

"It wouldn't be so bad to be stuck here with you."

Elsie stretched her feet over the edge of the bed, "Let's walk Charlie, but leave the dog here," she sat up, peering over Charles' belly to where Igor was sprawled out, asleep, "I don't think he'll mind."

In the process of putting on their outerwear, Charles asked, "Where shall we go?"

"Away from the tourists, so east I think."

"How about we head toward Beryl and Bill's? If we get uncomfortable, we can stop in, I'm sure they're home."

"Of course they are, it's Sunday and she's probably baking today rather than yesterday."

He waggled his brows then, "Well there is that."

Elsie just looked at him, "And you accuse me of having a one-track mind!"

3:26 pm

They had walked with the goal of making it to Greenwich Park but the intensity of the wind coupled with a drizzle caused them to detour into Surrey Quays Shopping Centre where they walked inside for 30 minutes before grabbing the Underground at Canada Water station and heading back to Charles' where they were glad with their decision as lightning cracked followed by a rumble of thunder.

Under the rain shower, they took a long hot shower together. By the time they'd dressed and fed themselves, they decided to spend the rest of the afternoon lazily cuddled together watching films.

From there forward, the remainder of their afternoon into the evening was occupied with tea and courgette bread for her; wine, pistachios and pretzels for him; and a single blanket and Netflix roster of films for the both of them.


	133. Chapter 133: In the Dog House

Wednesday, 30 January 2019

8:30 am

"On, I've a bone to pick with you!"

"Whatever for?"

"Recall when you're married you sometimes find you don't know as much as your wife. Cora tells me there's a certain canine undercurrent to the wedding."

"Yes, I met Elsie on the first day of the Year of the Dog and we're to be married on the last day. What's that matter?"

"What's the matter? I've been waffling what to wear as your best man and now I hear that, it becomes obvious!"

"How so?"

"I've this tie – and matching socks – with Scotties on them that Sybil and Cora gave me the first year I had a granddog."

"Wearing those Monday would be brilliant, Ham! Not only did we meet on the first day of the Lunar New Year, we met thanks to Lady, er Shrimpie, and Igor at the veterinary clinic. Even more perfectly, in that same spirit, I've bought a tie with a graphic of dogs and bones that I plan to wear on Monday."

"You're getting sentimental, old man! Maybe you want Isis there beside you instead of me."

"Oh, sod off, Ham!"

"Anything else I should know as your best man?"

"Other than, don't plan to get me drunk at the Stag Party?"

"Crikey! I know that you know when to stop drinking. No, more like, what else shall I plan on as your best man? No morning suit I hope, though I can, if you're going that formal."

"A suit with a pocket for the rings yes, but no morning necessary, Ham."

"Good. What colour are you wearing? I'll follow your lead."

"Do you recall the suit I wore for Marmaduke's funeral?"

There was momentary silence, "Haven't a clue, remember I am a bloke."

"Dark grey single-breasted. Though in a nod to propriety I will also be wearing the waistcoat for the wedding which I did not for the funeral."

"Ah, now I somewhat remember. White shirt?"

"Twill weave white-on-white," Charles smiled.

"I hope you haven't ironed it yourself; I know your skills in that area."

"Sod off again, you twat! I have, Elsie's been giving me lessons. Anything else? Otherwise, see you Saturday."

"No, just looking forward to it all!"

"Uh oh, sounds like trouble."

12:00 pm

Charles had arranged to meet Clifford at Anna's shop on the heels of his pre-wedding haircut so he could introduce one another to their new neighbours. On their way back to Elsie's now, Clifford and Charles spoke casually. "Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Carson, and thank Elsie again for me, please. I am so glad to be getting out of my flat and before I need to be out altogether on the 31st. My da and Dane are planning to stay with me over the weekend, help me get my things in order and of course then attend your wedding."

"No problem at all, Clifford. It works out for us all. It's good to have someone trustworthy living in the house. I want to make sure you're comfortable with the water heater and furnace, just in case. Oh and remind me to take you out in the yard. I don't know if you have a green thumb at all lad, but there's a dogwood bush back there that is rather special to Elsie and me both."

12:38 pm

House tour finished, Charles extended his hand to Clifford, "I guess that's about all save for this set of keys. Elsie says there's an extra set hanging in the cupboard to the right of the hob."

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: See the neckties I picked out for the groom and best man at Amazon: Great British Tie Club Scottie Dog (Robert), Navy Blue Give a Dog a Bone Tie by Alynn (Charles)


	134. Chapter 134: Guard Dog on Duty

Friday, 1 February 2019

10:25 am

"Thank you, Ms. Hughes," Matthew Talbot said calmly and sincerely from across his desk as he took the stack of papers from her and added them to the pile on the edge of the blotter. "So, we're in the home stretch," he smiled, reassuringly. "We have your Trust, Real Estate deeds for the Trust, Powers of Attorney for Healthcare, Wills, and Living Trust paperwork all signed, and the only thing left now is the Guardianship, for Becky."

They were in the solicitor's office, his last day of work in London before he would be moving his family back to Manchester. It was because of the personal connection and trust that Charles had in Matthew that they were presently taking care of all the paperwork – beyond their marriage license – that would put their married life legally in order.

"Mr. Carson, yours is the only signature required here, beginning on page three." As he had with the other documents before, Matthew had turned this final one to face Elsie and Charles who were seated side by side on the far side of his desk. He waited patiently as Charles signed his name. To fill the silence as Charles reviewed once more the paperwork in front of him, Matthew swiveled in his office chair and commented on the mix of rain and snow coming down outside his window.

"Glad it should be warmer on Monday," Elsie politely replied. Only to Matthew she seemed to be with the fairies.

"Ah, next on page five, Mr. Carson." Matthew flipped there and Charles again put pen to paper with a confident and sturdy hand. Only, to his right, Elsie was sitting up especially straight, perching on the edge of her chair whilst now looking up at Matthew's office ceiling. In doing so, she didn't realize she was calling attention to herself, she was simply concentrating on trying so very hard not to shed the tears that were pooling in her eyes. She had sacrificed, worried and worked so hard – alone – over the years for Becky's welfare. After Alban Hughes had died nearly seven years ago and the primary guardianship responsibility fell definitively to Elsie, William and Lavinia had become her designated legal backups should anything happen to her. Yet with two young lasses of their own to provide and care for, Elsie knew it was asking a lot, especially where Becky was concerned.

And so to sit here as Charles, signing page after page, takes that task off their shoulders and magnanimously places it on his own without any hesitation made her love him all the more.

"And finally, page eight, along with today's date." Matthew noticed Elsie wiping back the tears of distress and gracefully excused himself from the office momentarily as Charles was capping the pen in his hands.

"It seems we're all official now, love, except for the _I dos_." He said it so matter-of-factly that it pushed her tears over the edge.

Reaching in her purse for a tissue, she said with as strong and clear a voice as she could muster, "Aye, we are, mo ghaol. Aye, we are. Tapadh leibh bho bhonn mo chridhe." It was similar to the sentiment engraved on his ring that was in a pouch, tucked protectively in her purse very near that packet of tissues: gu brath mo ghaol.


	135. Chapter 135: Dog n Suds

Saturday, 2 February 2019

6:30 pm

Charles' Stag Party had been underway for 90 minutes already. It had seemed like a terribly early start time but Robert explained it away with, " _There may be a second destination."_

They were in a private room that Robert had booked at THE FOX AND THE HOUND, a simple London Pub with a sport theme. Indeed, the room had a billiards table, shuffleboard and darts available for the guest of honour, his Best Man and the others including members of the Cheerful Charlies cricket team, and Tom Branson. And there were screens above replaying highlights from this afternoon's Chelsea 5-0 win over Huddersfield Town and the Six Nations England vs. Ireland match live from Dublin. The bar was fully stocked but given the canine tie-in to the wedding, Robert had ordered bottles of Newcastle Brown for the first round and it stuck thereafter.

Everyone raised their Bottles of Dog at the toasts offered up to Charles; all knew him to be the best of mates, but none more than Robert who took it upon himself to recant their decades together and many of their shenanigans. It was all from the heart, yet Robert sometimes didn't know when to stop; his toast had turned not only into a speech but an emotional shaggy dog story.

Subtly, Thomas Barrow was able to make eye contact with Tom Branson who was painfully aware of his father-in-law's long-windedness and cut in.

"Well said, Dad! To build on that, I have had the honour of knowing Charles, Uncle Carson, since I started dating his honourary younger niece, Sybil, 11 years ago. As several of you already know, he is also my daughter's Godfather, and a devoted one. You all know he is an Englishman through and through but he touched this Irishman's heart, deeply, when Sybbie was born and he recited a traditional Irish blessing for her that seems appropriate on this occasion as well.

 _We wish to the new child,_  
 _A heart that can be beguiled,_  
 _By a flower,_  
 _That the wind lifts,_  
 _As it passes._

 _If the storms break for him,_  
 _May the trees shake for him,_  
 _Their blossoms down._

 _In the night that he is troubled,_  
 _May a friend wake for him,_  
 _So that his time be doubled._

 _And at the end of all loving and love_  
 _May the Man above,_  
 _Give him a crown._

Tom paused momentarily before continuing, "Written by David Kelleher, 1931. Of course Uncle Carson, or C.C. as Sybbie calls him, properly changed the pronoun when she was born."

"Of course he did!" Robert added.

Tom embellished on the blessing, "We are gathered this evening in celebration of Uncle Carson being beguiled by a wonderful Scottish lass who is similarly smitten with him. It is an especially heartwarming development for those of us who know all too well that his heart was broken, going on five years ago. Given what Uncle Carson means to my wife and daughter alone, I am forever grateful to all who helped him to be hopeful again, allowing his love to be doubled. Uncle Carson, you are such a force in our lives - in the lives of everyone here, no one can ever take your place. For now and a long while, may good health and happiness surround you and Elsie. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Carson!" With that, Tom paused and raised his beer as did the others. And then he led them all in a chorus of FOR HE'S A JOLLY GOOD FELLOW.

7:05 pm

The men had continued to drink and have a good time, only there were some surprises yet in store. "Charlie, your London mates have pitched in on a gift for you." It was Bill Mason speaking on their collective behalf. "I had it delivered to the clinic and don't worry, it's in nobody's way there. We didn't know what to get ye because, especially with Elsie now, it seems you've got everything that you need! But when I was driving Martha home last weekend after Elsie's Hen Party, we got to talking about the Brighton cottage and it was Martha's suggestion that you might like to have one of these, there."

Charles couldn't imagine what it might be. He remained speechless when he opened the envelope, for inside was an Amazon order for a hammock. Had Martha heard about Perth or was this entirely a coincidence, Charles wondered. Only he wasn't given a chance to stew on it for very long before Robert's loud voice interrupted his thoughts, "Oh, brilliant, I wondered if they'd arrive in time! On," Robert gestured toward the doorway, directing Charles' attention there.

"Michael! Edith? What are you doing here?"

Edith bound over to Charles then, kissing him on the cheek. "It is 2019, Uncle Carson. Surely I'm not the first woman to make an appearance at a Stag Party."

"Fully clothed anyway, darling. Hello, Uncle Carson, congratulations! We got here as quickly as we could after dropping Marigold off with Sybil."

"It's wonderful to see you, but I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. Ham?"

"Don't look at him, we didn't want to chance arriving late for the wedding. We knew you wouldn't consider that proper!"

"Absolutely! Alright, I won't ask questions other than, would you like a drink?"

"Michael will probably want one, but I'll pass and cut you off at the same time." Charles was confused, for he was nowhere near drunk. "You and I have somewhere else to go tonight! Papa?"

"Hello darling, so glad you're here. Five more minutes and I would be going in your place. I'd much rather go play on the floor with both my granddaughters."

"Would someone please explain what is going on?"

"Here you go, On," Robert pulled his mobile out of his pocket, handing it to his daughter. "Edith, you're going to have to transfer these to your mobile yourself, I'm quite the Luddite."

Charles was still confused, until Edith explained, "It's my half birthday today, Uncle Carson, time to do something I haven't done since I was a child, right? You and I are going to a concert! We've tickets to the O2 Arena and we should be going, now!"

In another sign of what was meant to be, Charles' ticket was for row K, seat 9. Unfortunately, the concert was a bit of a bust as far as Charles was concerned - too much heavy metal and he was glad for the disposable, complimentary ear plugs given out. But it was wonderful to spend time with Edith, it happened so rarely.

10:40 pm

Afterward, the taxi queue from the North Greenwich station was lengthy when they stepped out so they took the Underground even though it meant Charles doubling back after escorting Edith to Sybil and Tom's. Along the way, Edith explained that she and Michael would be moving back to London in the spring. Charles had wondered if they'd been considering it. "Well, I think it's a good choice on your parts. And your grandmother and parents will be very happy."

"I told them the night of Uncle Duke's funeral. They're so pleased. After us all being together at Christmas, we wanted to come back. You know who'll be happiest of all? Me! We love Switzerland but I miss London and everyone here and it will be wonderful for Sybbie and the little Branson on the way to be with Marigold...and our little one too!"

"What? Both you and Sybil are pregnant?"

"Mm-hmm, with due dates just three months apart. And you're happy?"

"Without a doubt! I'm sure you can count on us to babysit - if you wish, that is!"

"Of course, Uncle Carson! I see the bond you have with Sybbie and want that for Marigold and her little sister or brother. You're a treasured part of my life, Uncle Carson, and I am so happy that you've found Elsie and that you're getting married."

11:25 pm

"You're home! And apparently sober. How was it?"

"Predictably...unpredictable. "What've you done with your evening?"

Pulling the folded paper in her hands up to her chest, Elsie replied, "rehearsing my vows."

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: Yes, I made the decision early in this Fic to have Edith and family in Switzerland. In canon, she and Marigold didn't do much for me. This outing was a way to fix it for her and Charles to do something special together, just the two of them (recall Chapter 34's "Dear Elsie" letter from Alice mentioned their concert-going in Edith's teenage years).


	136. Chapter 136: God Spelled Backwards Is

M - for about to be Married!

Sunday, 3 February 2019

6:45 am

"Hey single lady, you wanna go on a date?" Charles whispered flirtatiously in Elsie's left ear as he woke, spooned against her back side in their cozy bed, arm draped over her hip and his thumbnail strumming the cotton against the underside of her right breast. As he started nibbling at her ear, his whiskers rubbed against her neck.

"Me?" Elsie asked, coquettishly, as she tilted her head forward to give him more access. She felt Charles nod his tousled head and his exuberant grin. "Where would we go?"

"How about a church, the altar even?" He planted little kisses from her temple to her jaw now.

As she ruffled the soft hairs on the back of his forearm, Elsie teased, "I don't think there will be candy floss for you to buy me there."

"Another time for floss, let's get married!"

"Ohhhh, there's an idea! How does tomorrow look in your diary?"

"It's reserved for you!"

His whiskers weren't the only things rubbing against her bare skin. Her nightdress had climbed up her legs during the night; Charles' erection was just below the hemline.

"And this morning?"

"It's all yours, m'lady."

She rolled so that she was facing him. With her right hand she reached out and ghosted her index finger across his bushy eyebrows, lips, over the whiskers on his chin and neck, down his chest and belly until she reached his shorts. Wedging her full hand in, she wrapped her index finger and thumb around the base of his stiff shaft and gave his sack a little jiggle with her middle finger. "And these?" she purred. Charles closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath through parted lips.

Exhaling a faint moan as her ministrations continued, he licked his lips and bit briefly down on his lower lip before his eyes fluttered and he confirmed, somewhat breathlessly, "Those too. Yours, all yours."

She threw her leg over his and bucked her center against his hardness. "Make love to me, Charlie - like there is no tomorrow."

Charles leaned toward her, their eyes closing as lips parted. Tongues were soon tangled between one another's teeth. As Charles' hands worked on lifting her nightdress, Elsie had released her grip and moved her hand, still within his shorts, until she was squeezing his bum prompting him to groan. After Charles had squirmed out of his shorts and rolled Elsie onto her back, he settled comfortably between her legs.

Elsie's first orgasm arrived quickly, her body familiar with and enjoying their usual Missionary position. Charles was pacing himself, however, hoping to last a long while and thereby deliver her much pleasure. To that end, he decided to experiment.

The back of Charles' head rhythmically tapping against the headboard along with his verbal endearments and encouragement together caught Igor's attention from his rug on the floor near Charles' side of the bed. The dog's head was lifted and he was watching them as Elsie came a second time, seated upright in Charles' lap, their legs wrapped around one another's hips.

As Charles pulled out, Elsie laid back and combed her fingers through her hair before bucking her hips; she wanted more. Their separation would not be long as Charles knelt in front of her and helped Elsie reposition herself once more, placing a pillow under her hips, shoulders against the mattress, legs straight up in the air.

Neither paid any attention to Igor as he sat upright watching them. The dog angled his head in curiosity as Charles inched forward on his knees and spread Elsie's legs. Sliding himself inside her again, Charles bent Elsie's knees and gradually transferred his upper body weight via his hands onto her shins spreading her knees apart as her lower legs pressed into her hamstrings. As Charles extended his own legs, he found added leverage with his feet against the base of the headboard. Elsie moaned then, "Oh God, Charlie! Oh, oh yes, right there!" As Charles began pumping his hips again, Elsie began to writhe deliciously under him, prompting Igor to sit up, his eyes fixed on his owners.

Charles was plunging and concentrating deeply. Indeed, his penetration was apparently stimulating Elsie in new ways. When he paused to wipe his brow, Elsie stretched up to kiss him. When he resumed, Elsie became more vocal, repeating "Oh God!" ever louder, causing the dog to stand up on all fours.

Charles cried out as he spilled inside her, bringing on Elsie's third orgasm during which she screamed her pleasure so loudly he almost wished he still had in his disposable ear plugs from last night's concert. Igor barked once at their loudness.

Spent, Charles released Elsie's knees, his weight collapsing down on her torso as she relaxed her hips, running her feet up and down Charles' legs in silent thanks as he remained inside her. Regaining his breath now whilst his cheek pressed into Elsie's shoulder, Charles acknowledged, "God I love you; that was incredible." In fact, it was so good, Elsie was simply speechless.

Igor danced toward the bed and whimpered, eager to be acknowledged. When they continued to be oblivious to him, Igor pressed his wet nose against Elsie's leg but she was focused on Charles, expressing her love for him with kisses and caresses. Finally fed up with their ignorance, Igor hopped onto the bed, landing on their intertwined legs. "Ach, Igor, ye beathach Dian!" Elsie reprimanded.

Charles didn't know what she was saying but as Elsie tried to shoo Igor away, her intonation aligned with his own sentiment now that Igor had started humping his bare leg. "Elsie, your dog has definitely got to go!"

1:00 pm

Little did Igor know he was indeed going, and that time had arrived. With a partial bag of dog food, bowls, thundervest, and ball launcher all in tow, Igor was brought back to Elsie's which was familiar to him save for the three men who were inside already when they arrived. Granted, he had met two of the three before but they were about to become his new family and he was thrilled for they had a big meaty bone, purchased yesterday from the butcher, waiting for him. It was a pain-free farewell as Igor focused on the bone and Elsie and Charles both gave him a good pat whilst they gave Joe and Dane pointers about his care, including, "You might want to keep him out of your bedroom."

7:40 pm

Charles and Elsie were finishing dinner with Robert and Cora at Abaco, the same tapas place near South Bank Tower where Charles had dined, alone, with the Granthams last 3 March. In fact, Robert was waxing poetic about that evening, sharing how a curmudgeonly Charles had chastised him, _"Don't go singing my praises,"_ and, _"I'm comfortable with the man I am. I'm okay with where my life is."_

"We're in town tonight and going to church tomorrow, On, because you clearly were not okay with where your life was - thank God!" Robert went on to praise Cora's woman's intuition that evening in attributing Charles' outburst in the restaurant to his, " _Getting his mojo back."_

Charles had not heard this epilogue to the story before and it was easy for him to laugh at his old self now and marvel at women's intuition in general.

"Elsie, you are the reason my best mate here got his mojo back." Agreeing with Robert, Charles instinctively reached for her hand and laced his big fingers between her delicate ones.

Elsie smiled at the heartfelt words and gesture, and thinking back to this morning in their warm bed in the skies above London, how were it not for Igor's interruption, Charles may have helped her tie or break a personal record established last November in Scarborough. "Oh, Charlie's definitely got mojo!"

"And so I invite you all to join me in raising your glass in a toast to three - just three people on the third day of the third month of the last calendar year - becoming four - four people, readying for two of them to be wed tomorrow, the fourth day of this calendar year's second month."

"Three to four!" they toasted together as Charles and Elsie leaned toward one another and kissed.

8:10 pm

Their lips were together once again as they stood outside their dark green door on the 30th floor of South Bank Tower. Robert was inside, about to spend the night in the guest room. Cora had said goodnight to her husband and Charles and taken Elsie's garment bag and hat box down to the lobby to wait for her there before dropping Elsie off to Beryl's for the night.

Charles murmured against her lips, "I guess this is it, until our wedding."

"So it seems," she replied before one more peck at which point she began stepping backward.

He followed her to the lift, pressing the call button, "You have everything?"

She looked between his eyes and lips contemplating one more little kiss tonight as a prelude to the rest of her life with this dear and darling man, "Aye, because I have you, Charlie!"

As the lift door opened, she backed in. Just before he let go of her hand, he clarified, "We have each other."


	137. Chapter 137: Boxers Rebellion

Monday, 4 February 2019

9:05 am

The Groom, Charles Ernest Carson, had arrived at the church with his Best Man some 45 minutes prior. Anna Bates and Edith Gregson were there already then, the former in part because she was bringing the men's boutonnières and ladies' bouquets, the latter so she could get accustomed to the piano.

Charles was a bundle of nerves in the Vicar's office as the start of the ceremony drew nearer; he was pacing one minute, sitting down with his leg jiggling up a storm the next. Beryl's gif of Beyonce performing SINGLE LADIES had set his heart pounding this morning for he knew the chorus thanks to Becky and Sybbie. His anxiousness only intensified when Reverend Travers reported that Cora, Beryl, Becky, and his Bride, Elsie Mae Hughes, were on the premises.

Charles was glad to have Robert - his Best Man in more ways than one - beside him this morning and yet, Robert's chatty ways were simply not helping him at the moment. Instead, it was Elsie who distracted Charles by way of her own text.

 _Charlie, my sixpence! It's in with the rings still - I believe, I hope!?_

"Ham, you've the rings, yes?"

"Once again, yes, On," Robert sighed, answering the same question for the fourth time this morning. "Are you feeling the need to practice, _With this ring I thee wed_?" Robert teased.

"The velvet pouch they're in has Elsie's sixpence! I need you to run it back to her." Whilst picking up Charles' ring from Brounker Road Friday afternoon, Charles had asked Fellowes to clean the coin ultrasonically and wrap it protectively. Charles had added Elsie's ring to the same pouch later.

 _Yes, sending Ham over with it right now._

 _Can't wait to see you, my beautiful lass!_ _Xoxo, Your [Soon] Husband_

Finally, there was a way for Robert to genuinely be helpful this morning beyond the assistance he'd provided in helping Charles dress back at the flat.

Robert made his way into the sanctuary where Edith was playing the piano formally now as guests were filling the pews. He made a point of stopping to greet some including Martha Levinson and Bill Mason sitting together in the front on the Bride's side of the aisle and his own mother in the front on the Groom's side, Rosamund immediately behind her.

"Pardon me, Mama, I'm on a mission to the Bride." Shown the sixpence, Maggie waved him along.

Charles' Bride appeared to Robert to be calm, cool, and stunningly gorgeous yet absolutely looking her natural self when he arrived in the makeshift ladies' dressing room, Anna working on her hair. When Elsie asked on Charles, Robert acknowledged his nervousness. He couldn't tell if Beryl herself was nervous or just taking charge as she barked at Elsie to unlock her mobile and give it to Becky.

"Becky, take a little video of Elsie putting her foot in her heel. Zoom in so we can see the sixpence!" she instructed whilst munching on one of the many fourtune cookies she'd baked for the wedding favours - complete with custom fourtunes including:

 _Elsie & Charlie Carson 4 February 2019: As happy as a dog with two tails!_

"How's this Beryl?" Becky asked, holding up Elsie's mobile to her and playing the video.

"Brilliant, Petal. Well done. Now Elsie, you send that over to your Charlie-Boy!"

"You are such a tease, Beryl! You heard Mr. Grantham; Mr. Carson's already beside himself over yonder," Anna cautioned.

"Well, then it's a good thing he'll have Robbie-Boy at his side, isn't it? Chop chop, Elsie! Send the video!"

Elsie knew how much Charles liked her feet and legs and high heels in general and thought the video would help calm him, bring a smile to his face. And so she lovingly typed the accompanying message:

 _Sixpence in place! Xoxo, YOUR Scottish Dragon_

Robert Grantham answered to 'Donk' but had never been called 'Robbie-Boy' in his life so he was a little unbalanced still. "Darling, don't you think you should be getting back to Charles?" Cora encouraged.

"Yes, right you are. Excuse me, ladies." Taking hold of the door lever, Robert turned his attention back into the room, "Elsie, I must say, On will be beside himself in an entirely different way when he sees you soon! You look amazing!"

"Thank you, Robert."

Little did the Best Man know the Groom was indeed beside himself already "in an entirely different way." Only seven seconds long, but with Elsie's Scottish lilt unintentionally providing narration as her stockinged foot went in her heel, Charles found those seven unexpected seconds of video not calming as intended, rather, entirely erotic!

"Jesus, not now!" he cursed his body. But it was too late, the stirring in his groin was undeniable and his mind couldn't vanquish her voice let alone the image of Elsie's painted toes sliding into her sexy-in-its-own-right heel. Charles looked down toward his trousers recognizing the telltale bulge of an arousal. "Bugger!"

As Robert exited the room at the back of the church, Sybbie approached holding her mother's hand, "Donk!" this morning's lone flower girl exclaimed.

Robert stopped and crouched down, "Don't you look pretty, sweetheart!"

"Donk, may I please say hello to C.C.?"

"I think that's an excellent idea, Sybbie! C.C. was rather nervous the last I saw him. I think seeing you could be very helpful to him. Come with me." Robert stood and extended his hand to his granddaughter and led her down the aisle, past the altar to the Vicar's office.

Peeling off from her father and daughter up front, Sybil reminded both, "Remember to be quick in there!"

"Damn and blast!"

Robert heard Charles curse as they approached the Vicar's closed door. Sybbie heard him too and covered her mouth in a giggle. Rapping on the door before opening it, Robert forewarned, "There's someone who wishes to say hello to you, C.C.!"

Charles spun on his heel toward the doorway where Robert now stood, Sybbie hidden behind him. "Sybbie?!"

"No, Tina Turner. Of course, you Twat!" Robert made to open the door wider to let himself and Sybbie in.

"No!"

Robert, Sybbie and everyone else knew Charles hardly ever said no to Sybbie, let alone with that much emotion behind it; something was definitely wrong.

"Wait here a moment, sweetheart, Donk will be right back," Robert closed the door behind himself, "On?"

"Sybbie absolutely may not come in here right now! Further, I might not be able to go out there," flummoxed, Charles gestured toward the sanctuary.

"Whyever not?"

Huffing his disgust with himself, Charles stammered, "Because...of this!" He pointed down to his zipper then as Robert's eyes followed his gesture.

"Oh my God! On, you've a bar on!" Robert doubled over in laughter.

"It's not funny, Ham! I'm supposed to walk out there -"

"Any minute now!" Robert was standing again, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. "Oh God, it was the video wasn't it?" Charles nodded, sheepishly. "You always did have a foot fetish, but this takes the cake!"

"Yes, well, any ideas? The Vicar doesn't have a cold shower I can step into momentarily."

"Should have worn your lycra today but since you didn't, think of Margaret Thatcher starkers on a cold day! It worked for Austin Powers!"

"Thanks a lot!"

"Alright, then think about Brexit or bad architecture, a poorly set table, unpolished silver, or Australia raising The Ashes! I'll try to buy you some time. Good luck!" Robert opened the door again, smiling wide, before he turned so Sybbie couldn't hear him chuckle, "A bar on! Brilliant!"

"Sybbie, darling, I'm sorry, C.C. musn't see you now. Something's...come up, you see," he was struggling to be serious. "It's bad luck for a Groom to see his Bride on the wedding day before the ceremony and C.C. is being extra precautious by not seeing any of the lasses he loves." Robert kissed her forehead then before hurrying back down the aisle with her.

Meanwhile, from the opposite end of the church, Cora was walking toward her husband and eldest granddaughter. Uh-oh, Robert thought, Cora leaving the Bridal Party was the signal the Bride was nearly ready. "Robert, is something wrong?"

"Not now, darling," Robert hustled past her.

A suited gentleman approached them as Robert went to open the door, "Excuse me, is that where the Bridal Party is?"

"Yes, who's asking?"

"Joe, Joseph Burns, Elsie's escort down the aisle."

"Robert Grantham, Best Man."

"Pleasure to meet you, is everything alright?"

9:27 am

Robert had been unable to stall the proceedings as he had hoped. Reverend Travers had seen Cora take her seat and came to check on the Bride. When he saw the Best Man, Travers told him he best go bring the Groom out to the altar - now! He wasn't about to cross Travers and so Robert hustled, yet again, up the aisle. He noticed the raven-haired soloist had taken her place beside the piano, standing ready for her cue.

Charles was still in a bind when Robert returned telling him, "Sorry mate, it's show time - and you're a grower AND a show-er!"

"Sod off, already! That isn't helping me!"

But now, Robert really could and did help his friend of 40+ years in every other way possible: he straightened Charles' boutonnière, patted down his errant curl, and noting the front of his trousers told Charles, "Follow behind me as close as you can. Keep your hands together over your John Thomas and when we reach the altar, turn toward Travers and stay facing him."

"Ok, thanks, Ham," a grateful Charles sighed, sincerely.

"You're welcome. I love you, mate!" Robert squeezed Charles' shoulder then.

"I love you too."

A minute later, the two were standing side-by-side at the altar, Charles facing forward, rocking to and fro on his heels. Robert peered over his left shoulder, down the aisle when Edith began to play ASPECTS OF LOVE. As planned, a proud Sybbie, beaming ear-to-ear, led the procession as the lyrics began.

"There's our precious little lass, On."

Job complete, Sybbie jumped into the welcoming arms of her father who greeted her with a smoldering hug as she took her seat in the first pew between her parents. Charles could hear their words of praise and elected to turn his head slightly to the right, acknowledging Sybbie with a wink then exaggerated blinks which she returned - long distance butterfly kisses they'd perfected via FaceTime during the Bransons' days in Boston.

Right behind Sybbie, Beryl and Becky stopped to kiss Charles on the cheek before stepping to the left with Violet between them. "And now here comes your beautiful Scottish lass!" Charles braced himself to ramrod straight at the mere mention, so anxious he was.

And before Charles knew it, Joe Burns was extending his hand to him, then kissing Elsie on the cheek before stepping back, unblocking Elsie in his periphery vision. Charles looked at her then, her new Fascinator that he was seeing for the first time and her broad smile he'd first been charmed by going on 12 months ago. Left arm then at his side, Charles' fingers searched for Elsie's right hand, as he winked and nodded his approval. Feeling Charles' fingertips on the back of her hand, Elsie rotated her wrist and wrapped her fingers around his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. Charles smiled; he would be okay.

Edith was still playing as Elsie, Charles and Robert then heard Travers clear his throat. It wasn't that Travers was readying to speak, no, he wanted their attention. He had noticed the bulge in Charles' trousers when Charles had shook Joe's hand. Travers deliberately glanced down there now, drawing Elsie's attention there too. She subtly snorted her surprise at what she saw, but quickly contained herself.

Charles cleared his throat uttering a soft, "Sorry," as the music stopped. Elsie squeezed his hand again and Travers shrugged his shoulders slightly, whispering, "You aren't the first," before projecting his voice for all to hear, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today -"

CECECECECECECECECECECECE

A/N: That's it folks! The Year of the Dog and my epic fic are finished! I chose to end it here at the start of the wedding ceremony given all the FANTASTIC vows others have written (and all the fantasies everyone has had) over the years about this union and it's aftermath, in canon and AU.

To all who have gathered here in The Year of the Dog, over the last almost 365 days - THANK YOU! I may post a little epilogue in a couple days. In the meantime, I'm dropping the dog at the boarder and going on holiday!


	138. Chapter 138: BoonDOGgle

A/N: Because: a) I mentioned the possibility of an epilogue, and b) one week into the Year of the Pig, I'm going through doggie withdrawl! But mostly c) your kind reviews, last week and throughout the last 12 months. I'm changing this one to complete, but welcome a) any and all reviews, whenever…and b) suggestions for clever chapter titles that would fit in YoTD. I'll consider penning more for these two as time passes. It is a long while yet until a certain September 2019 movie is released, after all.

Boondoggle (N): a wasteful or impractical project or activity often involving graft

CECECECECECE Epilogue CECECECECECE

Sunday, 10 February 2019

Their three day, slightly delayed honeymoon in Scarborough had concluded earlier today when Mr. and Mrs. Carson checked out of the very same room that had first been theirs three months prior. After setting a new personal record in the room's large bed, Elsie had suggested a Scarborough getaway should be an annual anniversary gift to themselves. Charles could count too, and Elsie recognized a certain self-satisfaction in her husband over the last 24 hours, to the point where she started calling him "Smugly." Charles' counteroffer was a return to Scarborough every November and a getaway elsewhere in the world for future wedding anniversaries.

2:00 pm

On their way back to London, they stopped at William and Lavinia's farm outside Thorne, where they'd been invited for Sunday roast. The little lasses who'd known Elsie since they were bairns cuddled up to her the moment the Carsons arrived. But Charles was a different story; despite first meeting him the night of the MoonWalk and being at the wedding last week, Charles was still largely a stranger to them and his sheer size was intimidating. Quietly and gently he wormed his way into their hearts, beginning with performing sleights of hand for them, getting down on all fours to play with Chuck and then traipsing out to the barn to meet the horses, including the lasses' own part-Shetland gelding, Jim. "That's a good name!" Charles had remarked.

After feeding Jim apples, they returned to eat themselves. By the time they reached the house, both Ivy and Evelyn were in love with Charles, nearly as much as Elsie herself. He had walked the last 30 yards with one lass standing on each of his feet, Ivy with her arms around Charles' waist, Evelyn with hers around his right thigh. "What's this giggle-fest I hear?" Elsie had peeked into the mudroom and shook her head at the joyful chaos her husband had drug in.

Lavinia had learned from her mother-in-law the way to being a good hostess was through plenty of tasty food. And there were leftovers galore, enough to send some along with Charles and Elsie for their return to London. Yet there was also pudding; caramel ice cream and earlier leftovers, Beryl's fourtune cookies from last week's wedding breakfast.

It was the first chance that Elsie had to read them all. Charles slipped when he noted, "There are five."

"How do you know?"

"Um, Beryl told me. When I went to the clinic to pick up our hammock. This one's my favourite - _Elsie & Charlie Carson 4 February 2019: __Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war._ Shakespeare."

"Ah yes, the joyful chaos like I saw when you came back in from the barn equals playtime!"

Before they'd climbed back into the car, the lasses had an open invitation to stay with them in London, courtesy of Charles who had also added the suggestion of including Sybbie and Marigold in an overnight. "Oh Lord, four little lasses all at once? Are you mad?"

"Madly in love," was Charles' reply as he waggled his eyebrows.

7:30 pm

There was a long-hand thank you note in the post waiting for them from Mr. Fellowes - for including him in their wedding celebration. The footnote reminded them of his wish to photograph Elsie's rings. As he finished reading the note, Charles looked over at Elsie. She was standing at the window thumbing through her mobile, the light hitting those rings and stones spectacularly, making him proud in a different way. "What are you smiling so brightly about?"

"Photos, from this afternoon. Lavinia just sent them, along with ' _Hugs and kisses to Auntie Elsie and Uncle Smugly'_."

"It doesn't say that!" He came over and stood behind her now, wrapping his arms around her middle and kissing her temple before stooping a bit to rest his chin on her shoulder as she continued to flip through the photos. "That Chuck's a good dog," he noted matter-of-factly.

She swatted his arm then, "No. No dog, Charlie."

"Not a pup mind you, but an older dog, maybe a retired stud - someday."

She turned in his arms. "No doggie stud, I have the only one I need or want." And then she kissed him, longingly.

9:00 pm

They made love one last time before their honeymoon weekend was finished. As Charles yawned, his cheek against her bare breast, and Elsie combed her hand through his locks, she asked, "Charlie, what were the fourtune cookies again?"

 _Elsie & Charlie Carson 4 February 2019: Doggone cute together!_

 _Elsie & Charlie Carson 4 February 2019: __As happy as a dog with two tails!_

 _Elsie & Charlie Carson 4 February 2019: Four-footed best friends!_

 _Elsie & Charlie Carson 4 February 2019: __Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war._

 _Elsie & Charlie Carson 4 February 2019: And they call it puppy love!_

As soon as he'd seen the first and learned there were more, he decided to frame the full set together, to be Elsie's Valentine's Day gift later this week. Right now, though, he was thinking of her other surprise for that night: walking her home from group to find the duvet that covered them now, itself covered with red rose petals. He may not be very good at arranging flower stems, but flowers off their stems were surely in his reach.


End file.
